Bless me.

I lost my voice recently - completely - I could barely even whisper. It got so silly that my dear mate Kakariki had to set up the text-to-speech doovie on her computer so I could blab on as per usual, albeit Stephen Hawking style*. Before it completely disappeared though I had a wonderful few hours where my regular twelve-year-old girly vocals transformed into a low throaty growl. Everything I said sounded hot. I ordered a freddo frog from the guy at the milk-bar and he gave me a big grin - he asked what flavour, I said strawberry and he winked. Then, probably just for an excuse to listen to my dulcet tones, he asked if I wanted anything else. Unfortunately I went into a phlegmy coughing fit and the magic was lost, but for one glorious moment I had experienced what it was like to sound like a grown-up.

Is it sick to find being sick sexy? Who cares. The hipsters at why would you knit that certainly don't seem to think so if this beautiful tissue box they recently posted is anything to go by.


* I am SO stoked to report that the text-to-voice computer doovie correctly pronounces 'cunt', also 'cuntcuntcunt' and 'cuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcunt'

Bless me indeed.