30 x me = ?

I love mood swings. You can swing backwards and forwards... and then backwards and forwards with the ability to repeat such actions as many times in your life as you like and unless your Dad is there to hold in just the back (i.e. happy) position, its just gonna keep on going with that endless motion. What if you could swing the swing in a squiggly kinda way. Off to the sides and stuff. Ooo, you can actually already do it round and round... ish. Which would mean that if you, say, wanted to be angry (Grrrrr!!!!) in a kinda round-abouty sorta way, then you could. It's like getting a bow and arrow out, pointing it at the head of your target and then shooting the arrow down into the sand instead and saying "Aaaahh, I'm not tooootally angry with you. just a little bit, in a round-abouty kinda way". Weird that, my folks and I were walking along the beach the other day and there was this guy with a well proper bow and arrow. Looked super pro and he had a whole host of buddies, kinda drooling over his shoulder like little kids in a playground surrounding the guy that got given the most exciting packed lunch by his mum. You could see these guys wanted to have a go. The main chap would fire an arrow, trying to hit a can in the sand and one of the others would bunny hop over there, grab it and bring it back for him to have another go. Just like a dog really. FETCH BOY!!! "Well done Jasper, very well done!!!!" "Woof, woof" Jasper retorts. After a few goes tho, Jasper seemed to get weary, his legs tired and the saliva dropping from his mouth was now thoroughly uncolntrollable. It left a trail with his travelling backwards and forwards all the time. He did this until he died. Or at least he could have done but we didn't stay there for more than 15 seconds or so, so the fact has never been confirmed. Anyway. I got plastered last night as it was my 30th birthday! Great Fun! It's the first time I've been with my parents on my birthday for 15 years and it kicked! My parents and my gran. I had some beers to commence the evening. Then, the entrée. Queijinho Fresco accompanied by a JP White wine. I whined not at this point as it would have been contrary to my emotions of the time... and that's just insane. I don't know about you, but, me and insanity have never really gone hand in hand... I think. maybe. actually... oh I don't know. it's not interesting anyway. So yeah, out pop the sardines (not from out of the belly of a huge other fish. that's not how they're born!), scrummy, crack open the Vinho Tinto!!! Enter the period of not quite rememberance the next morning. Finish the meal utterly drunk and move into the next room for Champagne and cake! + Portugal versus Azarbajan (sry, can't spell that...) and modified versions of the Volare song. Instead, Mr Scolari had the honour of having his name sung out loads. SCOOOOOO-LAAAAA-RIIIIII, Waaooaaoo, CAAAAN-TAAAA-RIIII, Woo-ooaaoo!!! Great Fun! The neighbours must have thought us madder than any madding crowd ever before seen or heard... or even felt. Have you ever felt a large crowd before? I can tell you ints some handful. Mental stuff. Anyway, the night finished with a lovingly relaxing cigar and a whiskey. Needless to say, when I woke up this morning, I wasn't feeling the best of rubber soles... but it's coming up to about 5 o'clock now and all that remains is a bad taste in my mouth. Speaking of which... I better go and stuff that mouth with some food. Almost time to start drinking again!