I was going to go for a run again today. Really. Promise. Thing is, my legs haven’t quite recovered from Monday’s jogalong yet and so I thought it’d be best to, er, rest them a bit more. Sure, I was all up for that ‘hey keep on keeping on’ or whatever it is cool people say. They also say things like ‘let’s take this shizzle down town’ and ‘ oops upside your head’. Possibly. I could very well be confusing cool people with disco song lyrics. Either way, I may well start to say all those things and eventually they will become cool, just because. My current most used phrases seem to be ‘plan, Stan’, ‘awesome, Dawson’ (that’s courtesy of Gina Lyons) and ‘shit yeah’. The latter feels like an odd one out. I should probably exchange it with another phrase that ends in a name, but there are few that sound as good as ‘plan Stan’ and ‘awesome Dawson’. I mean, ‘even Stevens’ is a phrase only said by complete morons. FACT. It doesn’t actually make any sense. ‘Plan Stan’ is saying ‘yes that is a plan, and your name is Stan, hence why I call you it.’ ‘Awesome Dawson’ has similar meaning. However ‘even Stevens’ seems to mean ‘things are even like Stevens’ which makes no sense at all. Unless I am completely misreading this and that there was a man called Stevens who was exactly even on both sides of his body and therefore a freak of nature. If so, then that phrase is fine. But there aren’t any others are there? ‘Juicy Lucy’ sounds wrong. ‘Pogo Hugo’? ‘Spaniel Daniel’? ‘Save the Panda Miranda?’
So, like I was saying, I was all for pushing the leg muscles more today, but I discovered yesterday, as I decided to stroll from my home in Finsbury Park to Muswell Hill in the lovely sunshine, that post-run legs don’t work like they should. Walking down any kind of stairs or hill was very painful, but I could handle that bit, because I am a man. And a little man at that, which means I have big man powers but condensed. The bit I couldn’t handle was when my legs just occasionally decided to buckle a bit without warning. As a result I stumbled infront of several people who all had to withhold smirks. There is nothing to make you feel more like a proper twat than when your body rebels against you. No more buckling please, unless its to do with shoes.
I know these blogs have been littered with bullet points lately, but that’s because I keep thinking lots of things. Sorry about that. Blame the world for being busy. Stupid world. So here we go:
– Poor Greece eh? How sad to be reduced to ‘junk’ status. I’ve been to Greece before, and its not ‘junk’. Some of its beaches are lovely and those are ancient ruins, not rubbish! I presume this now means Greece will be bagged up and dumped onto a trash site somewhere where it will take over a million years to decompose? If so, I hope that they bag it up in 100% recyclable bags or its just not right at all.
– Yesterday afternoon was spent sitting in Andrew Maxwell’s garden having a BBQ with him, Paul Byrne, Pete Johansson and Maxwell’s kids. Flynn, the older one, insisted me and Pete had Pokemon stickers for our iPhone, and we both agreed without thinking this through. It was only later, whilst sitting on the tube, playing with my phone, that I noticed people staring at me slightly oddly. Everyone looking a nearly grown man with Pokemon stickers. I’m not sure if it made me look mentally ill, suspicious or like I’m a child with an aging disease, but either way, the stickers are now gone. Well, I say gone, but they are on my filofax. Hella cool.
– Feast ice creams have got smaller. This means they are even less of a feast than they were before. I mean, if a medieval king had asked for a feast fit for himself and someone had brought him a feast ice cream, they’d definitely have been beheaded. What I want, when I open that wrapper, is something that could feed 40 plus people. Get it sorted Walls.
– I haven’t yet seen the Labour ad directed by Stephen Hopkins, of 24 fame. I really hope they’ve gone properly overboard and included guns, bombs, and Gordon Brown running around twatting people while shouting ‘ I need your vote! I cant tell you why! You’re gonna have to trust me.’ Perhaps then cutting to Cameron threatening to raise taxes and help only the rich, unless they can stop him within the hour, followed by an elaborate chase on bikes. The whole party toing and froing has got pretty silly now anyway, they may as well have fun with it.
That’s all. Must get back to, er, leg resting.