Dear Diary. It's Friday. According to Rebecca Black, you're supposed to "get down" on Friday. But I don't know what "getting down" means. Maybe it means I have to lie on the floor. Actually, I hope it does mean that. I could do with a nice lie-down.

I woke up with a headache. Probably having a baby and only five hours of sleep had something to with it. I got my other kid, 4-year-old, dressed and ready for school. Actually, Girlfriend got him dressed while I just loitered around the apartment, occasionally rubbing my head against the cold window.

The good thing about school is that it's free childcare. So I dropped 4-year-old off at school and then Girlfriend and I were free to go about our day. We went out for lunch, to a restaurant called Fock Viu. Some of the items on the menu were a "Hot Fock" (burger with spicy sauce) and "Fock Fries" (fries with spices and curry sauce). I went with the restaurant's signature dish, a "Fock Viu" (a cheeseburger). It tasted like just a McDonald's cheeseburger but it cost 11 euros so perhaps we should have saved our money and just gone to McDonald's.

The placemats said things like "Fock the system" and "Rebel", but the restaurant still expects you to pay at the end, so the restaurant can't be completely against the system, can they?

In the evening, I did indoor climbing and a Bodycombat class. I do some form of exercise every day in fact. And my hard work is paying off. I'm beginning to get ripped. I still have a long way to go before I reach my goal of looking like Captain America (that's a real goal and not a joke) but I'm making progress.

But something that bugs me is that I don't talk to anyone. Before the Bodycombat class starts, for example, everyone stands around in little social groups and natter to each other. I don't have a clue what they talk about. Meanwhile, I just stand there, alone. It's a curse. The curse of unsociability. I've suffered this curse for years, ever since I was a teenager. I guess I could try harder to talk to people? Christ, I'll have to do that. It's the only way. Come on, Holden Caulfield, you can do it.

By the way, I want tattoos. Not because I like tattoos but because men with tattoos are more attractive than men without tattoos. It's been scientifically proven. At least, I think it has. Actually, I may need to double-check that before getting something permanently inked on my body.

My idea is to just go into a tattoo store and ask whoever's there to draw whatever they want on me. Because if I know if chose the tattoo, I'll choose something crap. Like, today, for example, I was thinking of getting a tattoo of a Windows hourglass loading icon, like this one:

Actually, I still think those tattoos are pretty cool.