I do not have diabetes. SPN bad!fic.
So -
Doctor - skip this bit, although I've refrained from listing too many gruesomes.
I have had a huge range of wierd and wonderful symptoms over the last two months, of the type that makes you damned sure you are going to be dying a huge and painful death.
But that, apparently, is my problem. It seems, at least until I get the three blood tests back, that the paralysing stomach-chest aches and the destruction of appetitite (as opposed to an appetite for destruction) is all psychosomatic.
I. MADE. IT. UP.
yeah. bollocks.
At any rate, the 'pee in paint pot and see what colours get made' test made it clear I did not have diabetes - which is always good to know, especially is there is a bit of it going on in my Dad's side of the family. Pee test also clear for urinary system infections. Woo.
The Comfy Chair.
Proceeded to the National Theatre, where they've laid fake lawn down in the open space which sits just between the theatre and the Southbank terrace. I have tried to find a photo online, but without success. Which is sad, for I'd like to share what is on the lawn: Oversized furniture (and lamp) covered in fake lawn as well. Lots of people could not resist the temptation to look like Alice in Wonderland after she had been far too trusting of strange bottles of liquid.
Neither could I - I managed to sit on the oversized couch for a few hours, and finished off a notebook, but then an attempt to eat, and buy replacement notebook, meant I lost my place on the chair. So I took up a corner of the lamp instead.
Was met by a friend, ostensibly to write, but as we hadn't caught up for a number of weeks, it devolved into a satisfying mutual moan about How People Are Weird and tactics for dealing with it, focussing on everything from 'friends' nettiquette and pub ettiquette, the capacity for self-delusion, striking the balance between modesty/self-deprication and confidence/arrogance, fandom, politics, fandom-politics and Antarctic exhibitions.
SPN bad!fic
So I wrote a deliberate piece of Supernatural bad fic - here.
The resultant Sam and Dean hunt down bad!fic piece in pen37's series can be found here. If her method of killing the fic doesn't make you laugh, then the selected screen caps will.
Doctor - skip this bit, although I've refrained from listing too many gruesomes.
I have had a huge range of wierd and wonderful symptoms over the last two months, of the type that makes you damned sure you are going to be dying a huge and painful death.
But that, apparently, is my problem. It seems, at least until I get the three blood tests back, that the paralysing stomach-chest aches and the destruction of appetitite (as opposed to an appetite for destruction) is all psychosomatic.
I. MADE. IT. UP.
yeah. bollocks.
At any rate, the 'pee in paint pot and see what colours get made' test made it clear I did not have diabetes - which is always good to know, especially is there is a bit of it going on in my Dad's side of the family. Pee test also clear for urinary system infections. Woo.
The Comfy Chair.
Proceeded to the National Theatre, where they've laid fake lawn down in the open space which sits just between the theatre and the Southbank terrace. I have tried to find a photo online, but without success. Which is sad, for I'd like to share what is on the lawn: Oversized furniture (and lamp) covered in fake lawn as well. Lots of people could not resist the temptation to look like Alice in Wonderland after she had been far too trusting of strange bottles of liquid.
Neither could I - I managed to sit on the oversized couch for a few hours, and finished off a notebook, but then an attempt to eat, and buy replacement notebook, meant I lost my place on the chair. So I took up a corner of the lamp instead.
Was met by a friend, ostensibly to write, but as we hadn't caught up for a number of weeks, it devolved into a satisfying mutual moan about How People Are Weird and tactics for dealing with it, focussing on everything from 'friends' nettiquette and pub ettiquette, the capacity for self-delusion, striking the balance between modesty/self-deprication and confidence/arrogance, fandom, politics, fandom-politics and Antarctic exhibitions.
SPN bad!fic
So I wrote a deliberate piece of Supernatural bad fic - here.
The resultant Sam and Dean hunt down bad!fic piece in pen37's series can be found here. If her method of killing the fic doesn't make you laugh, then the selected screen caps will.