They Call Me Mimi

Dear Dobson,

Unfortunately still in my consumptive state I have slowly evolved into a rather unsightly, overweight version of Mimi from La bohème.  I remain convinced that Mimi's calorific intake was nowhere near the thousands mine is, nor did it involve Maltesers.

My grandmother always maintained one should feed a cold and feed a fever, or something, but somehow this good, old-fashioned advice doesn't seem to be working for me.  I feel like a turkey so full of self-loathing it's fattening itself up for Christmas.

One might think that being laid out with a lingering virus could be a good thing; an opportunity to catch up on TV, e-mails, masturbation and online shopping / dating (same difference).  The trouble is, the longer the illness persists, the less inclined I feel to do any of the above.

Anyway, my masturbatory days may well be over now I've discovered the delights of 'Diamond Twister 2' on my phone.  It offers the same titillation and short-lived excitement as a wank, but the bonus is you get lovely affirmations whilst playing; 'Awesome', 'Great' and 'Fantastic' are just three of the things I've been called this evening.  It would seem I have to rely on machines for everything.

I may have to shower tomorrow, the smell of carrion is strong in my room.  I can't wait for the day that I can leave a 'scratch and sniff' offering on my dating profile - that will definitely separate the men from the boys:

"My photo is on my profile so you can see what I look like. I am friendly and easy to get on with. I am also bright and intellegent [sic]. I like travelling and cycling and computers. I have been single a very long time."

I wonder why?

Frankie