Jack Johnson's "Fortunate Fool"

I am listening to Liam playing Jack Johnson's "Fortunate Fool" and it makes me think of the time I donned some one's over-sized slippers and ran down the street to get something out of my car, thinking that the streets would be empty. They weren't. There were people everywhere and there I was in super fluffy slippers four sizes too big for me trying very hard to look inconspicuous.

I also once went for a walk with two different people. Not at the same time, although that would've been cool.
Anyway, so the one walk was at 3am and ended up in the mall where security chased us out because they thought we were there to burgle the mall.
The next walk was just around the nearby neighbourhood where we looked for people to join us. That particular day was weird and unsuccessful. Weird because we stood outside some guys house and called his name in weird voices which we thought sounded like birds. Ja, weird. Later we walked past a lady's house where the door was wide open and the entire house was in darkness. It looked sort of...haunted. We knocked and called for the person we were looking for and suddenly....we gave up and walked on. Pointless. Well, actually we kind of ran away because we were worried that that high pitched piano music would start playing and a grotesque man with a giant axe would jump out and hack us to pieces and we'd scream like girls, me being the only girl out of the two of us, and that would be that. Weird.

Feeling like rubbish

I feel like rubbish today. Not in the sense that I feel like eating rubbish in terms of junk food or actual rubbish, just to be clear, nor in terms of having my skin or my clothes feel like rubbish either, nor in an emotional sense. In a flu-ey sense. Rubbish. I explain what seems like obvious obviousims because they are obviously not as obvious to everyone. Obviously.

I am currently, over the past two weeks, watching someone fall to pieces in a most peculiar way. I don't really understand why and I can't really help because they seem oblivious to it but it is somewhat concerning and somewhere along the line, some sort of intervention may be necessary. This has nothing to do with feeling like rubbish except that I suspect that they too, feel like rubbish in some sort of way and are trying to "fix it".

This morning Di wore what I will call her "Slipper shoes" and we were running in the rain to get inside and I thought that she had noticed the mini river that I had jumped over but she hadn't and so she stepped straight into it and then ferociously shook her sopping wet foot in my direction, spraying ice-cold slipper-shoe rain water all over my jeans. It was very funny but I'm sure that her foot felt like rubbish.

Two of my friends are fighting with each other. It's rubbish. I mean, it's horrible and is therefore rubbish.

I read the excerpt of some one's Master's thesis and I'm sorry to say but...yep, it was rubbish. Rubb-ish.

Rubbish rubbish rubbish rubbish rubbish. This blog is just rubbish because I feel like rubbish.

O.k, sing this to the tune of "How much is that doggy in the window?":

Di says that she can't eat anything with a face. That is just rubbish. I've seen her wolf a chocolate Santa down faster that you can say "Cannibal" and a chocolate bunny faster than you can say "Angora jerseys". The moral of the story? Don't put chocolate on your face when Di is around.

It didn't fit in to the tune? Did you actually try it? Well, it was meant to! Try again! If it doesn't fit, it's not my fault, it is yours because your fitting of words into tunes is just rubbish ;)