How the heck did that happen? (Part 2 of Illness)

So, where I was lying in bed going, "Argh, life, why must illness wreak havoc on me, this is cruel... especially considering Kathryn told me I could not afford to lose weight when sick, and being sick now may do that, and pain and ouch and why, why, why", it suddenly dawned on me I needed no visitors.
I needed no one! And thus, I contacted them all through various methods (MSN, asking Emily to text Kathryn, talking to Kathryn croakily on the phone) and slept peacefully.
After wandering outside to my brother and his friends, and croakily begging for some form of meat as I was now allowed it, I wandered back to my bed, dazed. Jake and Tim looked somewhat perturbed to see me looking as I did - and I looked like I'd gotten smacked in the face with a large possum which had clawed my face off, in a manner like the Kraken from Pirates of the Caribbean (although this one is far more creepy, and it reminds me of the Kelvin Grove possums) - so I wasn't going to stay out there twitching occasionally, and mumbling under my breath, "I want my mummy". Instead, this activity commenced in my room. I sat on Facebook, discussing with excessively bad spelling and grammar current things in my life with my pal Joshua, and then fell asleep.
My brother, when I woke up, was suddenly in my room. This was more than a little concerning. In my hazy, foggy, ridiculous head, I was convinced he'd apparated or something spectacular. However, he had not. He'd merely opened the door. As I goggled up at him from my bed, he strode to my window and closed it (I was shivering and lamely trying to attack my heater), and informed me there was going to be no KFC for me today.
Surprisingly, I was okay with this. He left. My mother called. And then about half an hour later, I was miraculously cured. Why?
Stupid stomach bugs, making me nauseous all day. In 5 minutes (and this is a solid 5 minutes) I had no lemon and honey in my stomach. I had no water. Probably not even paracetamol. Probably not even a stomach.
And so I got KFC tonight, with all the happiness, because I was bouncing around my house excitedly and calling Chris going, "I WANT KFC PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE NOMNOMNOM CAUSE I AM HUNGRY!" (to which he replied, somewhat alarmed, "Okay, okay! I'll buy you KFC!! WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY BETTER?!")

NOTE: This is actually something that's going around. My mother called me, shocked at my pre-stomach-emptying voice compared to my post-stomach-emptying voice, and told me she had the same thing on Wednesday.
According to Kathryn, Courtney's family experienced the same thing.
I decided to blame my father (even though the common person in all this is me. I would have seen Courtney, picked up the bug, passed it on to my father, who passed it onto my mother, and then BLERGH SICK).
Also, KFC is delicious. Chicken is delicious. Chris generously gave me a nugget and I almost wept at the sheer joy of chicken. Chickeny joy. Ahh, I have missed you profusely.
Joshua, my lovely pal, informed me that during our conversations (which I can't really remember) I seemed drugged. On some sort of depressant. I'm not anymore.
Oh, and my multitude of 6 followers (I count the non-blogger followers)? Buy badges for Jeans for Genes day. Buy them from me at Indooroopilly. 6 August (it's a Friday, I'll be there all day, I can even be witty).

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.