I've started, will I finish?

So here it is.. my first ever blog.. I never thought it would happen and in all honesty it probably shouldn't have and in fact wouldn't have if it wasn't for Holly who's blog I recommend you follow

http://lucasholly.blogspot.com

Why I posted a link to Holly's blog when she is highly likely to be the sole reader of mine I do not know and also after I have clearly stylistically raped her profile (albeit in a Emporio Matalan or Primarni sort of a way)

I should probably start by explaining the meaning behind my blog name "Mushy Peace", which is a shame because it doesn't have one. I was originally going to call it "Dropping A Blog" but unsurprisingly it had already gone. Dropping A Blog is shit incidentally, which if intended (which I suspect it is not) would make it arguably passable as funny. Incidentally fear not this is not going to be a blog dedicated to puns. Even I a self confessed pun lover knows that would be shit and would therefore probably be at home best on Dropping A Blog.

This blog is actually the third in a series of new starts for me this month, the first of which was attempting to pull of a moustache (see profile pic).

This all started when I came across this (almost literally despite not actually being "a gay") in the reception of EMI publishing.



Quite why I thought that if Brad Pitt being could pull it off then I could escapes me but that combined with my hairdresser getting so "into the haircut" that she got into my facial hair, left me with no choice. If I lived in Shoreditch this would be fairly standard and perfectly acceptable but I don't. I live in Camden and work in central London, where rather than fitting in you just look like a bit of a cunt.

On top of this my facial hair has always, at best looked as if a child had drawn it and has the ability to disappear from visibility the further you stand away from it. Having said that top lip has always been the area of strongest growth so I guess I should celebrate it once in my younger life before I become riddled with arthritis preventing me from being able to control it.

My new look has so far garnered comparisons to famous people such as Adolf Hitler, that guy from Sparks, Freddy Mercury, and a 1950's aircraft pilot but alas not Brad. Some of my colleagues were also kind enough to email me pictures of there supposed "lookalikes" just in case I wasn't aware of how shit they looked.

Wrong as it is I actually quite like this one and disturbing to know that Hitler appears to have been endorsed by some of my favourite designer brands.

How long the tash will last I don't know but for now I will stick with the shit stain on my top lip (as it was delightfully described by a colleague).


The other new start for me was a gym membership, which I also started this week with the intention of beefing up for the beaches in Beefa this summer. I had my taster session on Friday with an a apparently "Very Personal Trainer" I didn't like the sound of this, I imagined he'd be joining me in the shower to show me how to "wash properly". In case you think I was willing to pay for this humiliation it was actually free when signing up to the gym. My trainer "Matty" (apparently a specialist in my body type - Endomorphic aka skinny fucker) turned out to have veins bigger than my biceps and it looked like that the only thing he knew about my body type was how to eat it whole without chewing.

Mid way through my workout I had to rush to the toilet to throw up my protein shake breakfast which thankfully still tasted like strawberry and was one of the most most enjoyable voms of my life and second only to the infamous rasperry ripple flavoured (and coloured) chewit sick that I ejected on a riveting school trip to B&Q on my 10th Birthday (I know what you're thinking. You wish you had a birthday that good, you only got to go to lazer quest)

Matty kindly descibed my being sick at the gym as a "right of passage" and even tried passed it off as something to brag to my mates about. Whilst "hey man i worked out so hard i puked" almost works with Matty's American accent an body builder physique it seemed like it wouldn't be as convincing coming from me. However it did installed a new found sense of energy to proceed with the workout.. Sadly this entusiasm and cofidence was to be dashed on the rocks 5 minutes later when Matty pointed out that a girl half my size was lifting three times the weight I had been struggling to on the lunge bar. He also made sure she heard it and she was cute. Thanks Matty, Thatty (Look Around You fans will like that)

I put on a brave face and told her she was "my inspiration" but I was pretty sure she could smell the sweat and the sick which, combined with my gaunt face (the same colour as the cat piss coffee that Maccy D's and Bagel Mania seem to specialize in) and the only glimmer of colour on my face coming from the dodgy tash. I could tell this was not a strong look and can only hope she was stood far enough away to not see the tash or maybe just mistook it for a cappucino stain.


Right this has been far to long already future posts will not be if in fact there ever are any. I definitely can not promise to keep this, the tash or the gym up as I have a history of starting things and not finishing th