Hip Hip V3

Good Afternoon Followers.

So, it's two o clock and I've been to the hospital and got home already! That's efficient cancer-having for you. For once, everything ran on time and went very well. Especially as it's only halfway through the day and I've already eaten four types of cheese. That's right, four. Wensleydale, Brie, Cheddar and Le Roule. Not entirely sure how I managed it, but am I complaining, NO, because god is made of cheese, like the moon and several other celestial bodies. So. Yeah. Back to the point, Constanze.

So, another of my damn early starts begun my day, as well as a wig crisis as none of my wigs go with my new Batman top. When I finally solved this problem the medicar came to transport me to the land of the needles and I wandered on up to the day ward. I sat down, made my self comfy. A nurse came over. I wasn't supposed to be a day ward, I was in clinic. Which I knew full well. How embarassing. So, I trotted off again, and went down fifteen or so floors to the right place. I saw the new doctor, who told me no news of an exciting nature. The only remotely interesting thing that happened was that he decided to send me for an chest x-ray to investigate my new MYSTERIOUS PAIN. All I can really tell you is that this pain is MYSTERIOUS. More on that when I get my results.

Blood tests (with one of the worst queues EVER EVER EVER IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND ANDYAKS AND WOLLY MAMMOTHS AND PULSARS AND BANANAS AND BEFORE THAT TOO AND THE ICE AGE AND you get the picture...) and pharmacy were well dull, not helped by the over-zealous slightly militant WRVS giving-directions-to-lost-patients lady who was desperate to give me directions to anywhere and everywhere, despite the fact I could find my way around the Hallamshire blinfolded, deaf, confused hungry and drunk.

And now, I am home. Drowsier than a Drowzee. As I mentioned in my last post, this weekend I went down to Oxford to visit my university and all my little university chums. So much fun was had, and so many things happened that if I tried to tell you them all I'd use up all the space on the internet. But, here are a few tasters for you, a bit like nibbles at weddings. Mmm, nibbling.

1. My (college. I must clarify to the non-Oxford University people who read this that this is my COLLEGE family and not my real one...) family got that bit weirder. It turns out that my brother is now shagging my mum, although I don't blame him, my mum is hot. I also divorced my old husband, Mr Henley, after he neglected to see me for the whole weekend. This lead to a beautiful drunken romantic proposal from Till, the classiest man alive. So, I am now married to a German, which is half of my life's dreams achieved. My brother also spent most of the night wearing my skirt, which proved interesting. When someone found out that the crazed skirt wearing maniac was my brother, their reaction was "Oh, you're related to Constanze, I should have known..."

2. The physics freshers have officially been approved by me. Freshers drinks was very good, 15 physicists in a room can NEVER have bad consequences. I was most definitely not very very drunk indeed.

3. Of course, the birthday celebrations of Nicky proved impressive, although at about eleven o clock I forgot to continue drinking, so by two in the morning I was sober. Not to mention hungry. Luckily, I saw a very pretty young lady's dress fall off completely, so that improved things vastly. Not that I'm a perv or anything. I also seem to remember telling anyone who would listen about my distinctly absent romantic life.

4. I stayed with the sexiest terrorist impersonator around, Richard Sillett. I drunk all his milk, woke him up at 5AM arriving back two nights in a row and filled his room with litter like the good friend I am. Oh, and I jumped about on his bed at 9AM on a Sunday singing Starship. And took out all my let's-go-to-pizza-hut-for-a-cheezy-bites-pizza-oh-wait-the-cunts-have-run-out-of-them rage on him. Really, he has no reason to be my friend, I just use him for his Iranian looking face. Sorry Rich.

5. I encountered the serious problem of not being able to mix painkillers with alcohol. As soon as I started drinking, all my pains went away. But, when I woke up the next morning, my blood is so crappy there was still a lot of rosé in my bloodstream, so painkillers were not an option. However, neither was starting drinking again, because the morning is not the time for gin. Any solutions to this problem, I would love to know...

But for now, it is back to hospitals...

... I need to go now... I'm getting blood all over the keyboard... I punched myself in the face the other day, and hurt my chin.... Now it occasionally bleeds everywhere...

Fail.

That's all, folks!

xXXxXXx

P.s I have received complaints from the famous biochemist Helen that although deeply humorous and very sexy, my blog is absolutely terrible at informing anyone of how my leukaemia actually is. My leukaemia is going very well. Tippety top. I will not be dropping dead any time soon. Just if you were wondering. Or hoping.

P.p.s The top photo is of me enjoying painfully expensive Chinese Dragon Pearl tea. The bottom photo is me enjoying some sexytimes with the delicious birthday girl, Nicky. I would like to thank her for letting me come to her very exclusive party, which was full to the brim of top notch people. Including one of her home friends, who seemed to be nearly as interested in poo as me.