Sunday, June 19, 2005

Fully sick. Two or three weeks ago we were having a magazine meeting at Vis and I had that horrible foreboding feeling that I was coming down with a cold. Paging through my haphazard mental flip-book of folk wisdom about how to prevent and cure colds, I had a lemongrass and ginger tea. I followed this up with a severe regime of hot lemon drinks, freshly squeezed juices, rugging up in bed (I had heard somewhere that raising the body's temperature kills off germs), gargling with antibacterial mouthwash and wearing scarves round my neck all the time.

Now I have a fucking full-blown cold. The sort where your throat is raw from incessant coughing, your joints ache, your nose runs, your ears are blocked and you feel both boiling and freezing. Of course, I could blame it on last Saturday's superhero ball drinking binge, Thursday's Irish karaoke session, and last night's mega-cleavage. But I choose to blame it on the inefficacy of all my various folk remedies, and am now drinking coffee and sleeping naked again like normal.

I really hope I am okay again by Tuesday, because it is my last day of work and there will be a company-sponsored piss-up that night. I feel quite aggrieved that my birthday is in August so I will miss out on the traditional dodgy birthday cake at work. Oh yeah, and also that I will have no income apart from freelancing.

Oh, and one more thing? Christian Bale = Batalicious. Today Tash was pointing to a picture of Batman in the paper and saying "Hot", like a toddler pleased at having learned a new word. I pointed out that you couldn't really see the hotness because it was a silhouetted picture, but Tash said she was just pleased to know it was there underneath. Tash also asked me who was hotter, Christian Bale or Cillian Murphy. It was like Sophie's Choice; but I eventually opted for Bale.

And as for Katie Holmes, she was out-acted by her own breasts in a satin shirt on a cold day.

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