Jaws without the shark

Wahey guess what treat lays instore for me tomorrow? I'll give you a clue: it involves cameras, drugs, and bang on trend clothing.

Naah don't be silly it isn't a super cool Abercrombie model party in the sparkly sordid depths of a Mayfair club, it's an endoscopy! Duh! (Oh i've missed that sexy hospital gown.)

It feels like i've only just recovered from the one two weeks ago, and I SWEAR, if this one stops me from consuming any more delicious KFC chicken shaped calories, i'm not going to be a happy chick (lols, see what I did there?). As tasty as tomato soup with whizzed-in hot dogs sound, it wasn't really that enjoyable. Funny that. And my GP has been ridiculously incompetent in ordering me the high calorie milkshake supplaments (they're just a bit floppy in ordering any of my meds - one tub of creon and one blue inhaler for a two month supply? Deekheads) so i'd rather not have to rely on their haphazard attempts at DOING THEIR JOB to avoid starvation and malnutrition. (I know I can buy milkshakes. But I like free stuff.)

I'm hoping there won't be too many more of these tedious procedures - I don't want to jinx anything, or get too optimistic given the completely unpredictable nature of transplants, but i've now been waiting 3 1/2 months, and I was told the average wait for me would be about 3 to 4 months. It's quite a short waiting time due to me needing multiple 'bits', and being on the national register. Though liver waiting times are significantly less than lungs, for example. Every time I have something done such as an endoscopy or vitamin injections, even when i'm doing my insulin or taking enzymes at dinner, at the back of my mind I always wonder if, (and secretly wish that) this'll be the last time. Normally I try not to have those thoughts because it's a sure way of preventing my phone from ringing, hence the 'secretly'! And then I get all schizo and pretend to myself I didn't think that... when I did. And I know I did.

The other things I wonder:

- Will I get my call before Big Brother finishes?
- Will I get my call before I finish my book?
- Will I get my call before the Olympic closing ceremony?
- Will I get my call before Carnival?
-...before my mum's b'day (sept 7th)
-...before my bro (Sam) goes to Uni?
-...before we finish the bathroom?
-...before I go to see the Paralympics? (I know!)
-...before I ever get round to tidying my room?
(These ones, minus the last, I want my call to come after!)


This is a bit of an aside, but I feel like putting these quotes in because they're hilarious. From this article about the writer Will Self.

The coffee pot boils, no doubt in a deliberate attempt to impose dull, naturalistic order on the contemplation of what it means to exist. Self unfurls himself from his ergonomic computer stool and gingerly removes the pot from the stove using a grubby towel.

"I always start with physicality when I'm writing as a woman. So I always have a vagina and think about having periods. I always start with an embodiment. And I think when I read men writing about women, they never seem to have thought about that. They've never thought: actually, you've got a cycle, you're different. So if I do succeed at all, that's what it's down to."

He is already beavering away at his next novel, the working rubric for which is, he tells me, "Jaws without the shark". 

Blackberry Jam

'Bramble' in a jam jar. 

So the other night I went to The Shop on Chamberlayne road, Kensal Rise. It's literally next door from my friend's flat, so we pop along whenever i'm over. Kensal Rise has recently become the new area du jour - everywhere you look trendy people are strolling in to trendy shops and trendy bars and trendy coffee shops to buy their trendy gluten-free-fat-free-sugar-free-ethical-soya-mocha-choca-wocca-skinny-latte/muffin. Hence, in The Shop, all drinks are served in jam jars. (See, I even wrote 'hence'. That's the pretentiousness rubbing off.) But despite this puke making coolness, the cocktails are TOTES AMAZEBALLS I mean, really yummy. 
The Bramble I think was gin based, not too sweet and finished with a glug of blackberry liqueur which makes the whole thing taste like rolling in a bramble bush with squished blackberrys ending up in your mouth. I normally have the 'Once Loved' which is served in a milk bottle (yeah, I know) and is a tropical DREAM. 
But they're expensive, so hello Tesco.
However, I really should avoid the 'hello tesco's wine section' of the night because my liver is bust and my hangovers now last 2 days. Easier said than done, but I do try. I do I do I do. Don't even drink that much - if I could raise one eyebrow and give my liver a look of 'are you serious', I TOTES would. So, this friday night will be spent watching Big Brother with a bottle of Coke a pack of crispy bacon some home-baked bread I made earlier and a side of insulin. Yum. (That's just the post dinner snack!)