Dance Or Die

Snooooooze. All I want is a snooze. Snooze motherfuckers. The trial job is going very well, I've stayed awake ALL THE TIME by some small miracle of god. I do keep occasionally doing really stupid things (this has never been hinged OH HO HO HO THERE'S A MASSIVE GREAT BIG HINGE ON THIS I am an idiot) but on the whole I am a stamp genius. It is damn tiring though. The problem is that it's really hard to tell to what degree it's me being tired and to what degree it's my current "lungs=phlegm" status. But then again when are my lungs not entirely phlegm? Hahaha, my and my silly body.

So much hospital coming up. So so so very very much. The laryngitis has morphed into a massive cough which just won't bugger off (I cough my lungs up seventeen times a day at least) so on top of the two visits to hospital in two days I now have to add another visit to another hospital to have my throat prodded. I really wish I'd stop coughing. It's probably done me a bit of good at work though, because I've not been feeling 100% I haven't been quite as mental crazy as usual so they might even think I'm a little bit normal. HAHAHAHA I haven't worn shoes all week. What? I'm tired, alright? You know what I'm like when I'm tired, I get all confused and brain soupy. Minestrone. Leek and potato. What soup would I be if I was a soup? No idea. Broccoli and stilton. Because I'm cheesy and have green bits!

Life is pretty damn good at the moment though. Proper good. I'm mainly saying that because I can see the pile of food in my hotel room, there's iced gems (I eat so many that someone did ask if I actually ate anything else, whoops), sharon fruit, bagels, hot sauce, onion pickle... How could anyone not be happy if they have prawn crackers? Do I eat to live or live to eat? Do I even need to answer that? All that time I couldn't eat was so horrible. Jesus, I proper nearly died of no food and all that jazz, silly stomach. For a girl that loves food more than she loves life that would have been a bloody ironic death!

The devastating news of the week is that I can't make this year's Sheffield teenage cancer trust ward Christmas party. Nooooooooo etc. If I remember correctly then it was at that event last year where I was entirely covered in toilet roll. Just remember kids, whenever you donate to the TCT all the money goes straight to bog roll and After Eights. When really it should go on a massive bribe to make Jimmy Carr/William Control/Gary Numan marry me. I mean, as happy as toilet roll makes me I think maybe the world should balance out the cancer it gave me with a young Morten Harket? Nah, having cancer and free snacks is good enough for me :)

I went on four buses yesterday and on one I talked to a man who had strange ears then someone with a nice face asked me for directions (I do really need to work out why everyone asks me for directions, it does confuse/creep the hell out of me). Plus I saw some exciting limestone and I saw an exciting forgery and I have a miniature kettle and went to Macclesfield by accident and that's pretty much a summary of my week. I'm not sure there's much else to say other than stay cool and see you the other side of some wonderful lung tests, metabolic bone scans and throat swabs!

Constanze :) xXx

P.s Did I mention the amazing story about hand sanitising gel? Apparently people in Northern hospitals have been eating it because of all the alcohol in it. They've eaten so much that some hospitals have had to put the hand gel away when certain patients come in. I'd like to confirm that I am not one of these patients. At least I hope I'm not... I prefer the foam, it's fizzy.

P.p.s Now watch me walk like a zombie.