Bug

Yes. Bug.
I have had one.
A horrible one.
I was sick. Lots.
I went to work fine, yet by 9.30am I was being sick in the customer toilets.
I couldn't even get the tube home because I knew it would make me worse. And I daren't get a taxi because they charge you £50 for vomitting. Harsh I think. As if having a bug isn't a bugger enough.
So I got the bug - sorry - bus.
Actually I got three.
I sat close to the door so that I could depart at will in order to be sick in the street. Which is delightful I tell you.
People laughed at me. Bastards.
People thought I was drunk. At 10am! If only...
I actually had to top up my oyster card after the second bus in order to continue my journey.
There's nothing worse than topping up your oyster card mid-bug. Those machines are not bug friendly. When you're shaking like a shitting dog, touch screens are challenging.
On the third and penultimate bus, I put my ipod on and tried to breath as steadily as I could.
A, to use the term loosely, gentlemen, got on the bus around the Hyde Park area and sat two seats in front of me. He kept staring at me, but I assumed it was because I had vomit stains on my 100% organic cotton camisole from H&M.
Within minutes, he approached me. I think it best to continue the story in the style of a script, proving that experiences like this really CAN be scripted:
Man: "Excuse me... excuse me... excuse me"
Me tries to ignore Man's advances by continuing to listen to her ipod. But eventually removes her headphones and turns her head begrudgingly.
Man: "May I sit here? Please?"
Me: "Erm..."
Man sits down next to Me. Me replaces her headphones in her ears and stares intently out of the window. Visibly trying to hold back the vomit.
Man continues to speak but Me cannot/chooses not to hear. A muffled low voice can only be heard. Me remains looking out of the window.
Man: "Excuse me... excuse me... excuse me"
Me, visibly irritated, removes her headphones again, sighs, and turns to Man.
Me: "What?"
Man: "I'm sorry to bump into you like this"
Me: "Well you didn't bump into me, you came and sat down"
Man: "Yes I know. I am just trying to make, how do you say? Acquaintances. I want to make acquaintances with people"
Me: "I'm married."
Man: "Did I say I wanted a relationship?"
Me: "I don't know why you're sitting here then!"
Man: "You're very beautiful..."
Me: "Well I've just been sick so I'd quite like to be left alone"
Me puts her headphones back in, burps and defiantly stares out of the window.
Man continues sitting next to Me.
What can I say?
I smelt of vomit. I had vomit on my 100% organic cotton camisole from H&M. I kept burping.
Does this provoke advances from men?
Really?!
I was hardly a vision of beauty and seduction. Even before the bug.
But I was well and truly bugged on that bus. Some may even say buggered.
This almost tops the conversation I had the other day with my misfit housemate about his new quick drying pants. Apparently the heat is too much for him at the moment. He observed that the sun faces our house all day and causes him to get a bit hot. So hot that he's had to purchase quick drying pants.
I suppose I should mention that he was in a towel at the time. Post-shower. I, thus, came to the conclusion that his glands must be incredibly active. Well, certain glands anyway.
NB. If you have been affected by overactive-glands caused by the pre-storm humidity, please visit www.kathmandu.co.uk/Mens/Baselayers_&_Underwear/12390/quickDRY_Brief_Men.html
for more help.
Since not having the bug (the past 24 hours or so) I have found that people have been communicating with me differently. No betty swollocks talk. No surprise 'acquaintance bumping'. It has been relatively normal.
Perhaps karma has given me enough bugs this week.
Bugs. Bugged. Buggers. Buggered. Seemingly small steps. Surprisingly inextricably linked.
Enough of this bug-bearing. Have a cracking bug-free weekend.
Night night. Don't let the bedbugs bite.
Watch this space...