My Nose vs. Yours: Kleenex can't bring me down

Some self motivation for my bunged up beak via Mickey Avalon’s horrendous, poorly syntaxed smut-fest ‘My Dick’, and influenced by the hilarious book ‘Pop Charts’by Paul Copperwaite. Actually, dont click that link cos I’m not in the Amazon Affiliates programme yet and wont get paid :p

Non-scrooge voice says click it, and whilst your browsing books maybe buy this too. I hate to think how this guy survives, having worn an NHS nurse’s school sex-ed prop as headgear on the interwebs…

I’m currently enjoying what is known to mere mortals as a cold or flu, as I mentioned briefly in yesterday’s post. I cant make my mind up which one it is yet, but its awfully annoying. Today I was meant to be go to HEAVEN (Westfield London), and with two days til crimbo, I’m contemplating implementing some kind of pulley system by which I can receive my presents and dinner without the bane that is human contact. *insert heinously unfunny apartheid joke*

Ever been blamed for spreading your cold around? Then you’ll know what I mean. I absolutely can’t understand how some people can play Cluedo over something so trivial, yet each year it seems to be ‘was it Hannah in the bedroom with the Olbas oil?’Its not like im spreading STDS or subliminal callyourmothershesworriedaboutyou messages.

On a lighter note, here’s what I wore to Underage on Saturday for your viewing and disecting…

© Rachel Cosford

I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW I’D BEEN MOSHING FOR SOME HOURS BY THEN, HENCE THE UNKEMPT BARNET & DISTINCT LACK OF MAKE-UP.

Bisous, I'm off to phone my 99 year old distant auntie
and spread some yuletide love, not germs or cracker jokes x x x