Log in

24 February 2006 @ 11:40 am
ALICE CORBETT: 23 December, 1975  

A cold. Can you believe this? I never sometimes get sick, but this my friend. Oh, ho, ho! Hardy, har, har, har, indeed. This is the cream of the crop, let me tell you. Blochy face and runny nose... yes. It is, indeed the point of my existance. I've got spots, can you believe that? They've started to itch, too. Is that bad? I mean, they start 'round my nose, and let me tell you, explaining to the girls in the dorm it's not a zit was not the highlight of my week.

I've even got some on my belly. Could pass as freckles, but Matt! I think I've got the rooster - no... bugger. What's the name for these? Chicken! I think I've got the chicken pox. How nice. Send me some mittens, will you? And maybe some tape? If I keep itching like this, it'll just sting more.

Hopelessly spotty. ('m going to die if you don't send those mittens)