Rah Rah Ga Ga

Well it's all gone rubbish.

I started jogging, it made me feel good, I stopped jogging because I was tired/busy/terrified somebody I knew might see me, and judge me. I was on holiday, I didn't do much, then I stopped being on holiday, because I can't control time. I drank until it was a great night, then I carried on, now there's some stuff I don't know, and the stuff I do know has bits in it that make me a tit. I played two gigs in a row with my band, now we have no gigs until May. I haven't done the washing up. I ate tea yesterday, and immediately fell asleep afterwards. We came fifth in the quiz, out of seven, and we had more players than the rules technically allowed us to. I've fallen in love with a fictional character, and so has at least a quarter of the nation. I spent all my money, and then some more, and I don't have any decent underpants. I think one of the Grand National horses I bet on was made up, and I failed to predict the outcome of six Rugby League games, the most predictable sport known to man. The team I support is rubbish and next year they're going to dig up the stadium and turn it into something awful. I have no petrol in my car. My head is shaped like a bean and my ears aren't on straight. I'm hungry, but if I eat I'll fall asleep. I haven't been skiing in years. I'm getting hairier in the places I don't want hair, and balder in the places I do. I can't draw.

Right I'm done.

P.S. Everything is not rubbish, I've now written two blogs in fifteen minutes and have two more planned before bedtime, I own Harvey on VHS and I'm about to eat ratatouille. I just wanted to vent a little.

P.P.S. That I couldn't spell ratatouille first time, almost sent me into a shame spiral so crushing it would have finished in me buying a vest.