I know, I know …
When a woman gets a flu-ey bug, she just goes "tishoo" very sweetly then gets on with her life.
When a man gets a slight chill, its's an agonising and terminal disease.
Well it is … Moan, moan, moan …
And this isn't some desperate excuse to get out of Ms. Mac and Robyn's "record your accent" game; though the sound of feeble croaking isn't how I normally sound.
Cough … hack … bleargh …
The band are going to hate me because they'll all be going down with this over the next few days. At least they'll get time off work; I'm just losing my weekend. Bah!
Moan … groan … buggrit and arse.
And my head is killing me …
I'm going back to bed …
6 comments:
Feel better, Dive. That sucks.
I'm just sounding croaky because I was out until all hours of the night last night (get this---years after my days in the mosh pit, I inadvertently gave someone a black eye. She was flailing; I was flailing, and her eye and my elbow colided. At least she's nice).
Hoorah for Sassy the mosh pit brawler. Way to go!
I'm sorry you aren't well.
So am I, Robyn. But I'll be better tomorrow.
By the way, I managed to get a good enough connection to listen to your voice all the way through to the 'n' word. That made me giggle so much I felt loads better, so thank's for being a long distance nurse.
Anytime I can help, just holler. But I'd prefer to not have to say that word anymore.
Eh. The whining is the best part. I get sick so rarely that I like to enjoy it when it does happen, which I do mainly by periodically yelling out, "I'M SICK!" Good times.
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