Instead I watch the brave people running the marathon go past our place through the window. Like the guys on SNL were saying, I am in danger of a flab-alanche...
After that, I engaged in the first stage of metrosexualisation of the Krusty in preparation for D-day - the facial.
While he had all of the impurities of the last 36 (oh dear) years squeezed out of his nose pores, I went for a little pamper too - and had the best facial I have ever had, hands down. We went to a new spa that seems to be struggling to find new customers and so has decided to give big discounts, so it was incredibly cheap as well as amazingly indulgent. Duvets, foot massages, hand massages and shoulder massages were just the preparation for the many, many delicious smelling elixirs applied to my face. Total bliss, without the Bliss pricetag. Me likey.
And Krusty now has craters the size of etna on his nose flanks. Hopefully they won't fill up with pollution again too soon...
Next step, abs.
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