Mother Nature, you bitch. We need to have words.
You may find this little escapade fucking hilarious but I'm telling you right now, I don't. You can kiss my arse and fuck off while you're doing it.
I suppose it was only to be expected. Only a matter of time before spending so many hours in aforementioned grotty shit pit crack den type apartment affected my health. But don't you think combining the swift and grim onset of tonsillitis (shivers, sweats, nausea, 24hours of being unable to leave the bed) with my fucked up knee was enough, without you inflicting my motherfucking period on me 2 weeks earlier than usual?
Yoooou bitch. What's the fucking point of you?
I mean, I'm doing my best here under already difficult circumstances. There's only so much you can do in a ski resort without actually skiing. The remaining options are limited. I have pretty much whittled it down to drinking, eating and sex. Now you have taken away drinking, because I'm on antibiotics and feel as if there is a golf ball or 4 stuck down my gullet. I sound like Mr Bean.
...and you have taken away eating as I can't swallow and have lost my appetite anyway.
...and - this is the real beauty - am surfing the crimson wave in a big way so I can't even amuse myself with a good reaming. SbH is none too impressed with your antics either. He even went to the lengths of making me vegetable soup yesterday when I was, as he put it, 'blobbing' in bed like a miserable, sweaty moose in the hope I'd stop whinging and we could have a shag. But no. Oh no. No amount of vegetable broth can compete with the dreaded curse.
You try being on the blob without having packed any of your usual arsenal of protection in a boy's house ....with no toilet roll! I could cry.
The crack den now has 5 people living in it. This is a 4 metre square room. With far too much furniture in it anyway and now a larger than life, slightly unhinged, long-straggly haired, bright yellow onesie wearing, Judas of a northern bloke, E who is staying there gratis in exchange for occasional cleaning. In addition there is Skater Boy and whoever he chances to bring home on a particular evening. E keeps us entertained and distracted from morning hangovers with amusing stories about the numerous scrapes he has managed to get himself into. Like going to bed in a complete stranger's flat without realising. Or just not going to bed at all and rolling himself up in the doormat outside a complete stranger's flat. Or the time he fell asleep with a half rolled joint in his hand and left a pot of water boiling on the stove, the handle of which melted and formed a seal around the base causing pressure to build up and his flat mate to come down in the morning and find the whole thing glowing red hot and vibrating like a nuclear explosive on the stove.
'How are you still alive?' SbH asked him this morning. 'You should come with a health warning'.
He also does some amusing dances, wears an Austrian felt alpine hat with a feather and has been heard to threaten to kick a lady's tits off when he gets in a mood. A charming chap by all accounts.
Not only this, but it seems to have got round the whole resort, thanks to E that I have brought with me on holiday a massive glass dildo inlayed with blue swirls.
Since so many people now seem to know about this and have been asking, I thought I would take this opportunity to confirm that yes, it does exist, and yes it's made of glass. And yes we have used it. And no, I won't be sticking it up SbH's arse any time soon. Unless he has a very very significant change of heart about the idea.