When i awoke in my bed yesterday morning, I realized I was to die an invalid. I'd not had such a sickness since I was in primary school and, not only was I sure that I'd been prey to some conspiratorial poisoning, I was in wonder of the inevitable curiosity that would be my passing with NO ONE even resembling Jackie O by my side.
It is pure suffering. Even my skin hurts.
To cheer me up slightly Tom and Kym have been describing in detail how good big day out was. I love them.
So for the last few days I have been excreting all sorts of questionable liquids from every available orifice. It's disgusting. I barely have the strength to stomach the vegan pasta my mum made for me. I've had to miss out on a couple of parties which i was looking forward to, and normally i would have found the strength to make it there I actually was NOT up for such a social experience. I didn't want to be the guest that vomited on the carpet, strangely not alchohol-caused like would be expected by party-goers.
I've been listening to the new(ish) offerings from fun. and The Dead Weather. They're both fantastic, pick them up when you have the chance.
till we're with the mounties,
JXR
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