This is ludicrous.

Warning: grossness to follow. I am oversharing.

I am sick again. If I had the energy to be mad about this, I would be. I got home at about 8.30 on Friday night not feeling 100% and thought, 'oh, I must be hungry.' (I assume most medical conditions can be fixed with food.) One snack later and I was a dedicated worshiper at the altar of the Porcelain God (the most religious I've been in some years). So after sitting with my head in the toilet for about half an hour (sorry, but I am sick and I want to share my pain by making you read about it, in all its gross detail), I went to bed. And stayed there. Sleeping. For days. (Well, a day.) Was in bed all of Saturday, sleeping on and off, waking up alternately feverish drenched in sweat, or so cold I thought I'd never manage to get warm. Was horrible.
(Although, to be fair to this vile bug (which has taken on Genghis Khan-like epic proportions in my mind) some of the incredibly vivid, borderline lucid fever dreams were a) decent fodder for novel (oh yeah, new plot, although have been too sick to write (proper write, this doesn't count) so not started on it yet) and b) highly interesting.) Am getting feverish again and starting to write in Bad Sentences.

Got up this morning about ten because felt slightly better (and also needed bathroom and shower) for a couple of hours - started feeling faint and dizzy and ill again around lunchtime and thought, 'oh, I must be hungry.' So had porridge. Nice, healthy, beloved porridge. Fixing the illness, I thought! Saving the stomach! Restoring me to full health!

And just when the Porcelain God thought I had abandoned the faith.

Not even See You Again by Miley Cyrus (I know, I know, I was listening to it by accident, it was just what was on the music channel, I couldn't be bothered getting up to change it, etc) can cheer me up. I am SICK and have written NOTHING and am generally a grouchy, foul-tempered sod. I am also hungry, but I'm pretty sure my hypothesis about the addition of food to my already temperamental stomach (i.e. back to the altar) will be correct. I should just skip a step and give the food directly to the toilet, as an offering.

You know what annoys me the most about this completely random illness? I have been detoxing all week. I have not gone out drinking. I have barely been smoking. I have been eating breakfast, and all the other recommended meals. I have been getting enough sleep. In short, I have been a total saint in comparison to my usual hedonistic, rat-arsed drunk, chain-smoking workmate-shagging meal-skipping all-nighter-pulling self. I have been so good! I have three theories about this: one) detox has thrown my body into such a state of shock that the tiniest of germlets is capable of knocking it for six; two) it is sheer bad luck (probably the correct theory) and three) body is staging a rebellion. "I want my drinking back, bitch!"

Listen. Note to body. This is not the way to go about it. Do you know how much I do not feel like drinking right now? Why don't you send me an email, or something. I guess that might be a little logistically difficult - how about this - next time I need to barf (because believe me, there will be a next time), spell out a message in that. OK?

The suckiest thing is that I have to go to WORK tomorrow. Maybe I will vomit on Musclini.

Also, just between you and me (I promise this is not spew-related) - a friend of sorts posted pictures of their Halloween party on Facebook. I looked through them in between trips to the - oh, wait, I promised not to mention that - KITCHEN and while 90% - no, make that 95% - of them were just your standard-issue, out of focus pictures obviously taken by someone in the process of falling drunkenly onto the nearest naughty nurse's knee there were a couple that I found seriously disturbing. (Actually there were lots that were pretty disturbing, but they were just your run-of-the-mill 'people who are going to wake up this morning and by morning I mean late afternoon, check Facebook, and then fall into a deep depression and well-deserved self-loathing' kinda snaps.) The disturbingest (most disturbing) photos - eww, Metallica, 'love is a four-letter word'? Have a little lyrical creativity. Sometimes music TV does not inspire me - by far the most disturbing photos were ones of an acquaintance of mine, who I normally think of in a 'oh yeah name deleted, he's an ok kinda guy, we had a big chat once when we were out drinking but I hardly ever really see/talk to him', dressed as a pirate. He makes an intensely sexy pirate. I am now never going to be able to see him again without preparing to be boarded. Gah! Stupid Halloween. Stupid pirate costume.

I think I am going to go back to bed now. Either that, or make some pasta and subdue Genghis by sheer force of will.

PS: I am sorry about all this complaining but I am bored and have nothing else to talk about.

PPS: Andrea, re: EB fixation - if you'da been there, if you'da seen it, I bet you you would have blogged the same.