Thursday, 1 April 2010

Public service broadcast

I come to you with a valuable life lesson. If your patent cold remedy comes in giant orange liquid-filled capsules, carries dire warnings about possible liver damage, and has been recently outlawed in the United States, do not, for the love of nathan, mix it with two glasses of cheap white wine from a Belgian concert venue.

Side effects may include:

Loss of sensation in entire face and majority of limbs.

Presentation of arse biscuits to divine, be-cardiganed singer-songwriter (having never even heard of this man until yesterday, I now have a crush. I don't want to have a crush, it's tiresome and opens up new vistas of internet time wasting. But, oh, his lovely eyes...). Biscuits, yes. Just biscuits. But still.

Mysterious lost journey home. Vague memory of having to sit sideways on tram seat in hope of reducing nausea.

Going to bed fully clothed.

Waking up next morning delighted to be fully clothed as all thoughts of getting dressed seem impossibly ambitious.

Day of sinus pain so extreme I am fantasising about taking a sledgehammer to my own head. Only the thought of the inhuman levels of energy required to leave the house and find a sledgehammer is stopping me.

End of public service announcement.

I am adding this new piece of important information to my list of things that do not go with alcohol (see also: stomach bug/empty stomach/extreme sleep deprivation). I am learning slowly and late, but I am learning. By the time I am sixty five I will be the poster girl for responsible drinking.

Horrible. I would dearly like to be in bed now, but I am on my way to take both children to the doctors for tetanus injections. Lashes has not stopped weeping, bargaining and raging about this since I told him on Tuesday. I dread to imagine what it will be like. We both still bear the scars of his blood test for mumps, aged three, and the pitiful screams of "Don't let them take my blooooooooood" that have greeted any visit to a doctor since then. If it's entertainingly terrible, I might come back and tell you about it later. I have nothing else on except performing a rudimentary trepanning procedure on myself using a corkscrew to relieve the unbearable sinus pressure.

15 comments:

dragondays said...

This advice will probably arrive too late - NEVER go into doctor's surgery with children.
Stay in waiting room and tell receptionist/assistant that you pass out at sight of needle (this is true).
They go in, suffer torture, and come out very proud and not crying.
Let someone else take the blame.

Chantal said...

Feel. Your. Pain. Am currently hungover and just waiting until 5pm to retoxify. It's going to be a lost long weekend.

Charlie's Tribe said...

Your lamentable condition couldn’t possibly be caused by wine which is a veritable life-enhancing elixir. It must have been caused by the giant orange alien spawn that you swallowed. Oh and I think we might have seen you sitting sideways on tram seat battling waves of nausea -- either that or the lady was simply reacting to Charlie’s rancid garlic breath.

Iheartfashion said...

My sympathies. That's all.

Samantha said...

You poor thing! Hope you feel better soon!

Lisa-Marie said...

Were they Lempsip capsules? You shouldn't have them with vodka either, just for future reference!

AnonyGay said...

AnonyGay will no longer stand for you finding new boys on which he should crush. You shall no longer post be-cardiganed musicians with talent!

Also, I quite like lost rides home. The less I remember about public transport here is all to the better, imho.

Children will survive. They always do, the resilient little buggers.

Jaywalker said...

Dragondays - Nice. Nice idea. I like it. In fact, they both escaped the needle this time.

Chantal - Hello! Long time no hear. I am already retoxing, gently. And considering Nyquil.

Charlie's - Well, if you found my dignity on the tram from Bourse, please bring it back. I think I could do with it...


Oh, Anonygay. We must meet up very soon for gin and I can tell you the full story.

And yes, children. Like cockroaches, but thankfully much prettier.

livesbythewoods said...

One capsule up each nostril, drink the gin through a straw.

Sorted.

Anonymous said...

April Fool! You woke up feeling great, did all the ironing, gave the house a spring clean, jogged five miles with the dog, wrote six chapters of a new novel and set up a new website called GovGoop which reviews hilarious amendments to the latest EU agricultural legislation...

zmkc said...

Re becardiganed singer songwriter: was he funny?

Em said...

Ooh yes, I would give biscuits to the cardiganed man too. Yum.

My daughter recently used her phone to tape a doctor getting stitches out of her foot. She played it back in the car and all you hear was her screaming (she has no shame) and me going 'for god's sake BE QUIET I've got a headache. I'm never drinking again'. Not a good moment for either of us.

Best of luck, Lashes...

Charlie's Tribe said...

Jaywalker, thanks for the compliment... but frankly we wouldn't recognise dignity if it walked up and smacked our collective heads stooge-like.

Z said...

You can change your settings so that comments go to moderation on posts older than 3 weeks. You still have to go to the dashboard and delete spam, but at least you can select all and delete. Unless you're a bit dim like me, who once selected all and then published.

A remarkably persistent spammer to fill in all the wvs, unless there's now a way to bypass them.

I can't believe you told Lashes two days in advance. Don't you know that you promise a trip to the cinema and then drop in on the doctor as if to pick up a prescription on the way? When you're then called in and needles are stuck in the children, it's the nurse's fault not yours because you were deceived too.

sanjeet said...

I think we might have seen you sitting sideways on tram seat battling waves of nausea -- either that or the lady was simply reacting to Charlie’s rancid garlic breath.
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