Le barf.

There ain't a whole lot to post. I've spent the past 48 hours staring mindlessly at the T.V, and vomiting profusely. Attractive, no?

Phoenix hasn't been too healthy either, so we've been wallowing in self pity together and beseeching the outside world to offer us sympathy. The whole dumping it down with hail and having the temperature drop to practically freezing hasn't improved my sunny outlook on life, and the fact I've watched more crap on TV in the past 2 days than I would normally in a fortnight has somewhat reduced my brain to mush. I find myself walking around the house in hideous matching tracksuits, drooling slightly and staring at the walls.

Well, it's not quite as bad as all that, but I'm not far off. I mean, I'd totally never possess matching parachute material trackies, But I am craving human company, intelligent conversation, and a Hungry Jacks Vegie Delight Burger oozing with mayo. And not necessarily in that order.

I don't know why it is I crave utterly revolting - and usually deep fried - combinations of food when I'm hugging a bucket, but I've been living on a mixture of 4 month old Christmas Pudding, doused in custard and oozing with brandy, and Beef Rogan Josh. (Not that I eat the beef, of course. The dogs tend to help on that side of things. I was vegetarian for nearly 13 years, and don't get overly excited by a slab of dead animal on my plate like some people. By this stage I was so far gone I would have eaten road kill, so I daren't complain when I was being fed, and quietly passed the rotting animal to the kids).

In an attempt to curb my boredom, I've been creating wonderful papier mache ballerinas, complete with tiny tutu's, and reading the entire Harry Potter series in the bath. And, of course, I did resort to crap photography from my sickbed.
Enjoy.