Illness. Coolies.

The most fun thing I've experienced lately is not this cold. Or flu. Or whatever it is.
If I had gone on a ferris wheel or something equally epitomising joy, I may have a moment to share, but unfortunately, my head is only pounding one thing to me.
Unlike last night, it is not HITLER HITLER HITLER JOHN CLEESE PRETENDING TO BE HITLER HITLER HITLER MOUSTACHIO HITLER. (That would make sense in context, but I'm not providing you with one.) Now, it is OUCH FAILS PAIN THROBBING HEAD NOSE BLOCKED LIMBS THREATENING TO STRIKE THROAT WANTING TO KNIFE ME, ME WANTING TO KNIFE THROAT ENDLESS CYCLE WHY THE PAIN ALL I WANTED IS SOME CHICKEN AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO?
My first day of rejoining the Meat-Eating Army is going swimmingly. And, to quote Dan Bergstein (which I will do frequently) - my sarcasm hand is raised. But not for long, because my joints hurt.
Is there a gland of sorts near your shoulder, Google? Even my Googling skills have gone down the drain. Somehow I typed in something and it came up with tennis elbow.
Elbow? Elbow is not shoulder. Google, what is this?
So in eager anticipation of my meat-eating return, I was going to do a roast dinner tonight. Yes, complete with all the happiness. We'd have a whole chicken, some pumpkin, potato, onion, sweet potato and gravy. Even some Yorkshire puddings. EVEN SOME MUSHY PEAS (which I adore). Then some lemon tart. Then tea and cookies.
I would have preferred to enjoy this while my face wasn't sliding off my skull, but beggars can't be choosers. And I really want this chicken. Screw the veges, I want chicken.
Anywho. So lying in my bed this morning, contemplating beginning a war with my throat and then realising that whatever I tried to do to attack my throat, it'd only impact me worse - oh my goodness, my eyes are about to fall from their sockets in extreme pain - I went on YouTube and have discovered the awesomeness of Charlieissocoollike's pals. Or Charlie McDonnell. I refer the YouTube name and the real name cause I'm awesome. I may even link you. Who knows? Nose knows.
(Scrubs, I apologise, we shall move on.)
So, I have come to the conclusion that the band as formed by Masters McDonnell, Day, Milsom and... Eddplant, also known as Sons of Admirals, gives me glee. Their cover of Here Comes My Baby has been on constant repeat via YouTube and I think it is the only thing propelling me through my sick-fog.
Anyway, I then realised Alex Day/Nerimon was even cooler than expected because he does this thing where he rips on Twilight. Kind of like Dan Bergstein, but in vlog format. He also sings. And it's not singing like William whatshisface (She Bangs man), it's legit, awesome singing.
As do the others. I think I am in extreme joy.
There is a bag of peas on my bed. I have been eating from here all day. It's been grand.
There is also a heater burning my legs. This is equally grand.
And I have 2 hrs to get a skirt made.
This can actually be done... if I stop procrastinating and if I don't accidentally sew myself up in the process.
DEAR SICKNESS, YOU ARE GRAND [SARCASM HAND EMPHATICALLY RAISED] AND YOU NEED TO PICK ON SOMEONE ELSE PROMPTLY.