Being Ill: A Timeline

• My bed isn't made.
• Panic that this fuzzy head feeling is a sign of death.
• Panic that I'm about to overdose on paracetamol.
• Spend 20 minutes thinking about how much I hate Lemsip.
• Panic that the constant quick changes between ear ache, blocked nose, sneezing fit and dizziness is a sure sign of death.
• Panic that I'm going to run out of paracetamol and ibuprofen the minute Tesco closes.
• Panic that I can't locate the Vicks and/or Karvol.
• Panic that I might infect my cats with my germs.
• Panic over my sudden love and appreciation of Lemsip.
• Is this real life?
• Worry that my boyfriend will leave me if he notices the collection of tissues on my bed and bedroom floor.
• Worry that sick days leave me with too much spare time to worry about things like my amazing boyfriend leaving me because I'm ill.
• Panic that I'll never find a full time job because employers hate the way my nose has a strange bump that make up doesn't hide.
• Ally McBeal is GOD!
• Panic that this is definitely what death feels like.
• And my bed still isn't made.

I could totally run the world...

I've had the shittiest week so far. Yes, Christmas was amazing but it's just not quite the same when you're a) not a kid and/or b) poorer than a chav is Glasgow. Also, there was the obligatory torture of having to work late on Christmas Eve and work early on Boxing Day (seriously?! What the fuck is that about? Do I not have a family/hangover/bed to accommodate instead of pandering to the needs of the un-pleaseable middle class of Surrey?!)

Then, after two torturous days on the Customer Service Desk from Hell (TM), I suddenly become struck down by two incredibly mean late Christmas presents. First of all, I'm smacked in the face with the news that my contract now ends on New Year's Eve rather than the middle of January (thanks for the heads up!) and then I spent the best part of last night either coughing like an old aged emphysema patient or decorating my bathroom with vomit. Nice mental image there, right? You're welcome.

So I'm brought to this beautiful conclusion. I hate my job. I hate not being in charge. So I'm going to totally take over the world, a la Brain from Pinky and the Brain. After all, I do have cooler nicknames than Barack "Barry" Obama. And I'm pretty sure I'm taller than Nicolas Sarkozy. All I need now is a room full of minions and a huge henchman to help me rid the world of horrible, retarded bosses and Simon Amstell. Because no one likes Simon Amstell.

Tinselitis #5: Tonsillitis

It's happened. Every year in the run up to Christmas, I get some sort of sickness. For the past three years, it's been a nasty combination of a cold and tonsillitis. And it's struck again this year, rearing it's ugly head on Thursday night before unleashing it's full evilness yesterday. But it's not getting in my way.. Shopping is well under way!

I've got four whole people completely bought for. COMPLETELY. That doesn't mean I won't be buying more for them, but for now I've convinced myself that half my battle is done. I'm wrong, of course, but that doesn't stop my little smug feeling of satisfaction.

Along with the pre-Christmas diseases and shopping is my complete and utter triumph... I've spread the Christmas spirit! The Boyfriend, The Sister, The Friends, and now a few others are completely infected. Not with tonsillitis, but with Christmas Spirit (TM). My campaign for the Elves is working...

Contagious Fear

I am a germaphobe. I carry hand disinfectant gel with me at all times. I shower twice a day. I wash my hands frequently. I refuse to touch people who are ill. For as long as I can remember, I have been absolutely terrified of germs, diseases, illness, the whole lot. It's not just a silly little fear.. It's a full on phobia. The mere thought of germs and bacteria makes my skin crawl and me shudder. So it's obviously more than a bit stupid that I went to see Contagion last night.

For an hour before, the entire duration of the film, and six hours after, I refused to touch anything other than my phone. I got home and disinfected my laptop (which is why it's safe for me to use right now) as well as my boyfriend's hands (God knows where those have been). The film absolutely paralysed me with fear, which is undoubtedly the hallmark of a great movie. Except, I doubt the producers/director/screenwriters/cast were expecting a complete germaphobe to walk on up to the cinema, sit down anxiously and nervously watch the entire film (mostly from behind my hands, I must add).

It has done two things to me: First of all, I'm now convinced that my phobia isn't holding me back in life, nor is it irrational. Instead, I'm absolutely convinced that it's good sense. From now on, I shall no longer be embarrassed when I insist that people wash their hands before touching me. I'm doing it for the Greater Good! Secondly, I'm now contemplating a career in science. Not the horrific dissecting-animals-in-a-lab-for-the-fun-of-it science, but the "Hey look! We found a cure!" science. You can be damn sure that if the world is to experience a breakout of strange bat/banana flu as seen in Contagion last night, I'm gonna be first in line for a vaccine (and this is coming from someone who also has a severe needle phobia).

Actually, scrap that. I'm gonna be the type who is actively using myself as a guinea pig to find a cure. I will voluntarily stick experimental medicine into my body if it's going to prove that germs are bad and my phobia/OCD/intelligence was right all along. I'm not dying because Gwyneth Paltrow is a whore. (I should add that this is, to the best of my knowledge, only in Contagion. I have no proof that she's a whore in real life.)

Also, as a side note, Jude Law has an absolutely awful Australian accent. I spent the best part of 45 minutes trying to figure out if he was a Brummie or an Aussie. Awful.

Tinselitis #2: Advent Calendar Galore!

I’m at that stage. I’m walking into shops and suddenly becoming overwhelmed by an intense craving for chocolate. I’m not a big chocolate eater - I’m the obnoxious arsehole who gives back the Easter Eggs people buy me so that they can eat them themselves - but I go batshit crazy for chocolate in the run up to Christmas. For this compulsion, I blame the following:

Advent Calendars

There’s something nostalgic about these things. I remember the excitement each morning brought as a kid.. Wake up, CHOCOLATE TIME, Christmas is one day closer! Maybe I’m trying to desperately recapture those magical childhood moments. Maybe I’m trying to inch myself closer to diabetes. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the stupidly bright packaging and miniature chocolate that taps into some strange part of my brain. Because, you know, bright colours and miniature things are amazing.

Massive Tins of Chocolate

Roses, Celebrations, Quality Street. Three hallmarks of the British Christmas that are completely ignored from January-October. The idea that you can get miniature (see, miniatures rock!) versions of otherwise larger chocolates makes every individual I know go insane. I can eat these miniature delights until I feel sick (which I do. Every. Damn. Year) but there’s something satisfying about that. Also, God help the person who takes the last Malteaser Celebration. I will smite you.

Originally Posted: October 22nd, 2011 at this blog

Baby Wanted

I’m not the most maternal of people. At school, I was forced to endure two torturous weeks of work experience at a nursery where I spent my entire time disinfecting myself whenever a kid came near me. If kids touch me, I have to wash my hands (who knows what diseases those miniature humans have?!) and I refuse to entertain the idea of ruining my body and life for one of them. But around this time of year, I suddenly get a huge craving for a baby. Only for one day, mind. Halloween.

See, my mum’s pregnant (apparently, two drama queen daughters aren’t enough for her) but she timed it crappily and the baby won’t be here until the end of November. So I can’t dress up the kid as a pumpkin or gremlin or gnome for the big, made up day. So unless I can find someone who’s willing to loan me their brat for a day, I won’t be able to fulfill these epic daydreams…

WARNING: The following may persuade you to steal a kid for a day. Don’t do it. The trouble you’ll get into is just not worth it for one of these disease carriers. Okay?!

The Jersey Short

Now I’m not exactly the biggest fan of these Jersey Shore types (I’ve never even seen the rubbish) but if you just so happen to have a few miniature humans lying around on the 31st, you could do worse than dress them up as Snooki et al. Just pray they don’t have the same attitude problems.

Baby Wacko

Inappropriate? Yes. Hilarious? Without a doubt. Fake ‘fro, Thriller red jacket, and weird noises no one understands. Baby Michael Jackson could probably even learn the Moonwalk if you had enough patience.

Baby Einstein

 The above photograph requires no additional dialogue.

McBaby

I’ll be stalking the interweb over the next week to find some more epic costumes and possibly a baby to borrow.

Originally Posted: October 19th, 2011 at this blog