Zombie mouth

What's zombie mouth, you ask?  Well, I went back to London three weeks ago, and I ordered bangers and mash for my dinner.  It's my favourite pub food and I hadn't had it in nearly a year, so when it arrived at my table, Ol' Greedyguts here was so excited that I immediately crammed some into my face.  Which would have been absolutely fine if the sausage hadn't been approximately the same temperature as the surface of the sun - it was so hot that it quite literally fused to the roof of my mouth.  All of the skin there immediately blistered and ripped open, so I had shreds of my own flesh hanging down into my mouth like little stalactites of skin.   It was excruciatingly painful and absolutely revolting - now I know why zombies are always so dang hostile...

Now, you might think that I would be eating nothing but ice chips for a few days after that, but don't be ridiculous, Miss K is made of sterner stuff than that.  I was in London and I was damn well going to make the most of it.  I was staying with friends and not eating in public, so was able to eat and drink in my normal excessive fashion, but in a manner that I like to call the "baby bird" technique - small bites, chew everything really well and then fling my head back and gulp it down with my mouth slightly open.  Yes, I'm just that classy.  Hey, when you spend a whole week with no skin on your hard palate and every swallow is so painful that it feels like your mouth is filled with battery acid, then you can judge me.

So let's add up the tally for my excessively accident-prone year - first there was the bald eye, then the cartoon-sized foot, and then zombie mouth.  Miss K really is quite a catch, gentle readers, can you even believe I'm still single???

Totally crap outfit of the week

Do you ever get the feeling that someone has their eye on you? 

Totally crap outfit of the week

Okay, just because I am horribly disfigured at the moment, did you really think I would let you down by not keeping track of the fashion crimes on the streets of Paris?   Admittedly, I have been shunning human contact as much as possible; I had to go to the office on Monday, but other than there, my sunglasses have been firmly in place anytime I have gone out this week - from riding the Metro to buying groceries, my shades have not left my face when I've been out in public.   Yes, that's right, I'm that idiot - Indoor Sunglasses Wearer.  Gah!!  Well, at least that's better than subjecting the good citizens of Paris to Ol' Eye-bald...

Anyway, the point is that I've been hiding at home for most of this week, which is a damn shame because the weather has been beautiful.  Fortunately, my apartment has a teeny-tiny balcony (so I've been able to enjoy the sunshine) and my camera has a long lens (so I've been able to enjoy people-watching).  And even though I was way up on the 5th floor, I could hardly miss this fashion monstrosity.  Hell, this little ensemble is probably visible from space.  In fact, aliens might have been on their way to Earth, seen this from a billion light years away, and turned right back around and gone home again. Because going by this outfit, there's clearly no intelligent life on this planet...

The eyes have it. Well, they used to...

I got an email today from one of my readers - it went like this:

When you say "I'll tell you tomorrow..." on a Thursday and then wait until the following Monday, what are your loyal readers supposed to assume?

A) Four-day hangover?

B) Rugged Irishman?

C) All relevant photos involve you wearing (exposed) green unmentionables?

D) All of the above?

Well, gentle readers, that's an excellent point, and my apologies for the delay.  Sadly, it had nothing to do with A), B) or C), far less D)!  I only wish any of those things had been the reason... 

St Paddy's evening on Thursday was good fun, but Friday night turned out to be a different story.  I  went to a party on a boat on the Seine, which was also good fun, right up until the end.  Unfortunately, when I was about to leave, I attempted a dazzlingly complicated feat of physical coordination: walking up the stairs and putting on my coat at the same time.  Yeah, this might be easy for you, but Miss K is well-known to be the clumsiest person in the world - especially on a moving surface. Even moored, the boat was bobbing up and down in the river, and the wash from a passing bateau-mouche hit our boat just as I was putting my arms in the sleeves of my coat, and that's when I tripped up the stairs.   And how did I break my fall, you ask?  Well, with my face, of course.

More specifically, I broke the fall with my right eye.  Now, Miss K is ever an optimist, and I am extremely grateful to have not broken my teeth or my nose, but not only do I have one hell of a black eye, the impact ripped off most of the lashes on that eye as well - aieee!!!  Never mind the cuts and bruising, never mind that I woke up on Saturday with blood all over my pillowcase and my eye puffed up like a blowfish, never mind that it hurt like the freakin' bejaysus - I don't care about any of that.  What I care about is this: my eye is bald!  I have a bald eyeball!  I'm eye-bald!  Wahhh!!!

And I can prove it - see below for before and after photos of my poor eye...

Before:  Not too shabby, right?  Nice colour, decent lashes, perfectly presentable.

After:  Saturday morning.  Eye-bald!

After:  Today. Still no lashes, just applied a little eyeliner -verrry carefully!  Notice how the bruises are turning neon-green on the left?  Yeah, that's going to be sexy...