Sexy Spanish Words and Sleep Deprivation

I’ve been failing to exercise this week, which may be because of that 12 kilometre run last Sunday, the ruination of my knees and mind for a few days. I’ve been dragging myself out of bed, feeling just as tired as when I went to sleep, and although I’ve been able to jam a few more bits of Spanish vocabulary into my brain, I’ve been in no state to go for a run.

"You’re jetlagged" somebody at work told me. I refrained from telling her that you’re not allowed to get jet lag in Asia, you have to suck it up and muscle through with as much coffee as you can stand. Because that wouldn’t be right; I’m denying myself coffee at the moment for fear it will makes things worse. But if I was jet lagged, surely I’d feel awake at some point in the day, rather than lobotomised throughout?
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Christie Malry’s Own Double Entry

This is a film that sounds like it’s a terrible, accountancy-themed 1980s porno, when in fact it’s a BAFTA-nominated piece of art. Which in turn means it’s full of full frontal nudity, auto-erotic asphyxiation and some worrying stuff with sausages. And double entry book keeping, of course.
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Firing Cheeseballs At A Dog

I came to the worrying realization last week that I couldn’t remember laughing at anything in the previous couple of months. My life was devoid of hilarity, like Tyke Tiler, the boy who sold his soul in exchange for nothing much in particular. I began to worry more and more about this, suffering some kind of performance anxiety where nothing could get me to even chuckle.
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No more booze

Half a bottle of red wine last night wasn’t so great an idea, it turns out. While I made my way through today without mishap, I didn’t ever clamber out of a slough of not-quite-right-ness. The incessant rain this afternoon didn’t help, though nor did spending most of the afternoon fiddling with some intricate, error prone code that I knew I could do more elegantly if only I had three extra monitors on my desk.
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I had the last lesson in my Spanish course today, a revision of the previous nine lessons. This commenced with a game of dominoes, before going on to a test of vocabulary where I realized I had forgotten key things like being able to ask "what?" or the spelling of the Sppanish for "sixty". Oh well. I have at least a month before I can start again with formal lessons, which gives me a chance to go back and consolidate all the things I should have learned properly by now. Not that I should feel too disheartened; I gave learnt Chilean slang for having bad breath and a sallow complexion, after all.
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