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.

Sick Day

I am not at work because I am SICK! My glands have all swollen up and I keep being ill. No fun is being had here today (although this may change as I plan to buy some candy (which will then be thrown up again, but such is life) and watch Dr Phil and be secretly pleased that I am too sick to work). I have called work. I left a message (after first talking to myself to make sure I sounded sick - I am, I really am, but I don't want people to think I'm not. Maybe I should take a photo of my vomit and put it on Face- no, that's revolting) saying "I might be in at lunchtime, will see how I go." Have just called again and informed colleague that I will not be in at lunchtime.

Think will be in tomorrow, though - hope will be in tomorrow! Otherwise work will mount to a ridiculous level. Also I then might have to take illness seriously enough to go to the doctor, which I hope I don't have to do because a) it's expensive and b)it's a hassle and c) the doctor always guilt-trips me about my crappy lifestyle and poor diet and so on. Also I usually find that when I get there my symptoms are less dramatic than they were at home and they sound quite pathetic when reeled off. Which makes me feel like I should exaggerate, but that's ridiculous because how is the doctor meant to diagnose you properly when you're making things up? Long story short, I don't like going to the doctor and hope that tomorrow I am ALL BETTER and don't have to.

No new news...being at home all day is BORING. BORING BORING BORING BORING.

Maybe I will hobble down to the dairy. But that would mean taking off slippers and putting on shoes...or would it??

Everyone knows you get to wear slippers out of the house when you are sick (or old).

Charatupace

...and other things I admire in my fellow musicians. >_>

I am still sick, but feel a lot better about it. Am now just vomiting in a predictably routine manner. I shall spare you the details...actually, no, I won't. I was sick in the shower today! Like a shower within a shower, if you will. It was disgusting...and once again proved that no matter what you think you've eaten, there's always a bit of carrot in there somewhere. I was sure I hadn't eaten any carrot. I think I'll go back to wellington this weekend, not next...while I could stay here longer and have a bit more money, i now have enough money to hold me til i get a job in wellington. I am also sick of Nelson. I think I have become allergic to it.

I have no news! All I have is disgusting stories about Things I Threw Up Today. I promise to do something about this.