Sinister: Cheer me up....

[idle berry]

urgh.
Urgh again.
Urgh and urgh again and again and again.
Guess what? I have flu.
I reckon there is definately a flu epedemic.
 We shouldn't rely upon NHS figures, cos I bet theres
many people like me who can't be arsed waiting in a
nasty wee doctors waiting room to be told "its the
flu. Its a virus. go home, rest, take paracetamol and
plenty of fluids".
I reckon when I'm ill, I must have a male hormone
inside me somewhere, even though I'm a girl. Cos I
like to parade around, feeling sorry for myself and
whinging to anyone who'll listen.
I hate being ill.
hot cold hot cold hot cold.
I take baths to get my body temperature the same for a
while, and to stop my limbs from aching.
I'm ill. But clean as a whistle.
where did that saying come from anyway?
my thoughs are incoherent and I can't focus properly.
I can't sleep. I have bizarre dreams. I want a cuddle.
I'm a soppy thing today.
I wish my boyfriend was here. Or I was there.
Hes at the other side of the country at the moment
working. I just want to snuggle up in his arms, rest
my head on his chest and fall asleep in front of the
telly.
I miss him.
Why is it, when I go to bed, I have my hair looking
sleek and cute, but when I wake up, Dot Cottons
stylist has snuck into my room and given me her look?
I want a poncho.
I went to a gig on Thursday. El Hobre Trajeado at the
13th Note Cafe in Glasgow. It was ace. I got the
album, "skipafone" the next day. I'm not always so
inspired.
Honey said something about you lot all trying to get
into each others pants? I've heard this before from
other sinisterians. 
So, who has the best pants?
And who has the worst?
I got some new pants on Saturday.
And some socks.
And the flu.

My mum had a poncho. she knitted it herself. its
yellow, and perhaps in the loft. Or in Norway in a
loft. 
My mum is Norwegian.
I want her poncho.
I can't go in the loft though.
I'm scared of heights and I get dizzy after only
climbing up two steps on the ladder. But i didn't get
scared staying in those top floor rooms in hotels in
the summer in glasgow.
My mum looked cool in the 70's. I wish she'd saved her
clothes. She had a lovely fitted brown suede jacket
with patches on it that I've only seen pictures of.
She was so pretty.
My mum told me on Saturday she used to live on Byres
Road.
I never knew that.
Heck, I never realised she actually lived in Glasgow.
I knew she used to work there though.
I want her poncho.
I want a cuddle.
Why am I feeling so odd right now? 
have you ever typed something and wondered about it?
like, I know my mum isn't on this list. Nor does she
care for B+S. Shes never heard them. Shes not into the
internet. But what if she read this? she'd certainly
guess I was her daughter. what would she do? or say?
Someone sort out my head.
The state that I am in. arf arf arf.
my throat is sore.
my ears hurt.
I want a cuddle.
If I won the lottery right now, I reckon I'd put it
towards funding the ulitmate cure for flu.
I'd have to start playing first.
blimey, I just got deja vu.
Strange things have been happening. I got a letter on
Saturday. It was addressed to me, but it was my
handwriting. I opened it up. I had created a DIY
letter for a friend three years ago, so that he would
bother to reply to my letters. All he had to do was
tick the boxes. And plop it in the self addressed
envelope I provided. And now, he sends it back to me.
He must have moved three or four times since I sent it
to him. And he still had it.
I replied to his letter.
Hes moving in March you see. If I didn't do it now, it
would never get done.
I have funny dreams.
And I have become fed up with irn Bru. I've drunk it
all morning and I can't bare the taste of it. Makes me
feel sick.
Do you want to know the best drink in the world?
O-Boy. you can buy it at IKEA.
I used to drink gallons of the stuff when I was a baby
chipmunk.
I really need a cuddle.
if my boyfriend Mark bothers to read this, get your
arse back up to Scotland and nurse me better and give
me a cuddle.
Please?
Snuggle me back to health.
Or send me flowers.
Blokes should send more flowers.
It says so in John Gray's "Men are from Mars, women
are from venus". An entire chapter about how to score
points with women.
And for all the randy male sinisterians out there
wanting to get into girls pants, I reccomend it as a
useful guide.
SEND FLOWERS!
I'm tired.
I think I'll go and watch some non taxing telly and
worry about my exams next week.
Wish me luck.

Love and strepsils,

Idleberry


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