Pink Shoe in Brixton

We also talked about the ghettoness of Brixton. And they all, with a resounding "ohhh" agreed that is was quite ghetto. Emma told us about how she was literally chased down all the way from Brixton to her hometown which is two neighborhoods away, having to run up to her door, lock it, and slam it shut with the person knocking hard for a good while afterwards. Then I told them about my "pink shoe in Brixton"...(my blog name). That it was late at night when we were trying to find this so-called famous club in Brixton and couldn't for the life of us find it. Jim was persistent and ended up in some part of Brixton. At this point, I was pissed off because I didn't want to be out there in the first place. And Alex, I think was still buzzed. I had to pee really badly so we walked down this obscure alleyway-looking place and I went behind a dumpster. Yeah, not a very pretty picture. I take two steps and my left foot steps in a pile of warm mush. POO POO. AH! As if my night hadn't already been crap. So Jim, without hesitation, takes my left shoe, tells Alex to help me find a place to pee, and Jim goes off to some gutter trying to clean, literally, the poo off the bottom of my shoe. I succeed in peeing and these two ladies, old haggy prostitutes I might add (and probably from the area), said "What are you girls doing here? You shouldn't be here so late night! You'll get molested, robbed, raped...you better get yourselves out of here". Yup..our sign to go. I hobble on back to where Jim is and he's still at it..holding my pink shoe trying endlessly with what little he had (probably newspaper bits and gutter water and I dont know what) to clean off the poo poo. That's Love.

Later on...about a couple months later..Jim said it was human poo.