Rose Diseases!
Sunday 4:20 p.m.
I think I posted once that I was better with my own sufferings than I was with other peoples. This is complete crap! I've come down over the last two days with one of them stonking, streaming, coughy, sneezy, spluttering head colds, and what have I done to deserve this? Eh, God? You're sitting there on your throne surrounded by angels and I've got a fung head cold! Well, do something about it!
And lo! the head cold miraculously disappeared!
No, it didn't!
I've got things to do at work tomorrow that I actually want to do as well. I don't want to take time off. I'm enjoying my job. You can't even do ra bliss properly when you've got a head cold. The vase breathing is out!
In the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid you're allowed to commit suicide and go straight to heaven if you've got a head cold. But then there would be nobody left in the church since I'm the only member. Foiled again!
The last throw of the dice is to don the Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle and jump about in the kitchen to loud rock and roll, and try to sweat it out. I'm just going to go and do that. Then I'll be completely dehydrated with a rotten head cold, but I'll be so knackered I'll be able to soak in the bath for an hour and feel sorry for myself in there.
Once I phoned in sick and, recognising the voice on the other end, I started in with the stuff about how diseased I was. Hotboy, the voice said, you don't work here anymore. I hadn't worked in that school for about three years!
23:30 p.m.
I'm fed up with this being alive stuff! Fung God! What's God ever done for me? Three kids tomorrow will have a bad time because I cannot go to work. Well, not a bad time, but a worse time. Basturns! Basturns! Even more basturns! I cannot go to work because I cannot stand in front of kids with bog roll stuck up my nose. And all that swaying around and being dizzy and all that crap. Just give me the disease that kills you in two days, you currant. I can do that, you basturn! You currant and basturn! Tomorrow I'll have to sit and watch the history channel and read a novel. Fung off, God! Just kill me, you fungpig! You basturn! Fung off!
This is the sermon from the high pulpit of the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid! You cannot join anyway, but especially if you're a flatheid. Excuse me, but the world does not need any more flatheids!
I think I posted once that I was better with my own sufferings than I was with other peoples. This is complete crap! I've come down over the last two days with one of them stonking, streaming, coughy, sneezy, spluttering head colds, and what have I done to deserve this? Eh, God? You're sitting there on your throne surrounded by angels and I've got a fung head cold! Well, do something about it!
And lo! the head cold miraculously disappeared!
No, it didn't!
I've got things to do at work tomorrow that I actually want to do as well. I don't want to take time off. I'm enjoying my job. You can't even do ra bliss properly when you've got a head cold. The vase breathing is out!
In the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid you're allowed to commit suicide and go straight to heaven if you've got a head cold. But then there would be nobody left in the church since I'm the only member. Foiled again!
The last throw of the dice is to don the Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle and jump about in the kitchen to loud rock and roll, and try to sweat it out. I'm just going to go and do that. Then I'll be completely dehydrated with a rotten head cold, but I'll be so knackered I'll be able to soak in the bath for an hour and feel sorry for myself in there.
Once I phoned in sick and, recognising the voice on the other end, I started in with the stuff about how diseased I was. Hotboy, the voice said, you don't work here anymore. I hadn't worked in that school for about three years!
23:30 p.m.
I'm fed up with this being alive stuff! Fung God! What's God ever done for me? Three kids tomorrow will have a bad time because I cannot go to work. Well, not a bad time, but a worse time. Basturns! Basturns! Even more basturns! I cannot go to work because I cannot stand in front of kids with bog roll stuck up my nose. And all that swaying around and being dizzy and all that crap. Just give me the disease that kills you in two days, you currant. I can do that, you basturn! You currant and basturn! Tomorrow I'll have to sit and watch the history channel and read a novel. Fung off, God! Just kill me, you fungpig! You basturn! Fung off!
This is the sermon from the high pulpit of the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid! You cannot join anyway, but especially if you're a flatheid. Excuse me, but the world does not need any more flatheids!
posted by Hotboy at 4:28 PM
3 Comments:
The UnHeard Of virus must have drifted over to your side of the island. Like you I enjoy my job, what a shame I've had to take a sick day today. Of course, half the knack of enjoying a job is not doing it more than 2 days a week, so everything gets a chance to balance out.
I wouldn't advise the beer vehicle thrashing about. Just stirs up the hornets' nest. Look at the Americans in Iraq and Afghanistan. You did U.S. history.
Relax, read the book, let your wee gribbly grobblies get on with the work of virus-munching. It works for flatheids, it could work for you too.
Think how happy you're making those little viruses by offering yourself as a breeding ground. And if you wish them ill, staying home is the nastiest thing you can do to them, to prevent their spread. Get well soon.
"Maybe"?
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