I must apologise for the lack of writing within recent weeks. After visiting the family for Easter I returned with such an horrendous cold my nose still resembles Rudolph if he was left out in the sun for too long. I've never believed in man-flu. Man-flu is for men who can't handle the common cold. However I am now searching for a penis on my body, as for 5 days I experienced this phenomenon. I suspect it's either on the back of my neck or knees, the 2 parts of the body you can't see without a mirror.
This hidden-penis-man-flu saw me spending 5 days in bed damning my family to hell. I don't know for sure which one of them is responsible but I would rather they all suffer than none. These 5 days led to writers block, well not so much writers block more laziness. It has become very difficult to move from my bed. I love writing but bed loves me back, bed never judges, bed understands and is there for me no matter what. I am actually writing this from bed and considering America. America is the obese capital of the world, bizarre that it is the home to both Brad Pitt and the one-tonne man. I have always enjoyed judging these people and questioning how good it could really be to use a big mac with lettuce as a side salad. How do these people become obese? Bed knows. Bed has the answers to obesity. These people aren't really that bad. Let's face it most of them are growing new civilisations between their fat folds. They are gods! Also let's not forget 'real women have curves'. Circles have lots of curves. Obese people are made up of lots of circles; Gods.
I don't have curves. Therefore I am not real. I am constantly searching for the re-set button that must be built into me, it's probably next to my hidden penis. I am also apparently not comfortable. My Dad made the mistake of describing Optimus as having a 'comfortable build'. Optimus was not happy. Have you ever seen an angry, pregnant transformer? I have.
So I am begging you bed, make me a god and make me comfortable.
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