In which Heath Ledger admits to smoking 5 joints a day.
No, of course you are not.
I'd be shocked if Heath Ledger didn't smoke pot.
|Clearly, the bottom in in the red bathers. Bigger, taller, stronger|
What day are we on? Day 8 and feeling great. Except for a bad, sore stomach. I don't know what is wrong with it, but it hurts. My house mates have had it, well, they'd had similar stomach complaints. Shane's had it. Matt's had it. The beautiful Sebastian has had it and now two girls at work say they have got it.
David is in San Francisco and while he is there, Sebastian is sub-letting his room until he finds a place of his own. He was going to stay up @ Bolago, but has since decided to come and work in Melbourne. Mark & Luke say it is because he is looking for pussy. He says that he needs to meet more people. I think the two reasons add up to the same motive, actually.
So, I've made an appointment with the doc on Thursday to discuss my stomach problems. I'm not convinced it isn't to do with smoking, or the quitting there of. Probably, some nasty yeast infection, or candida, or some bacteria thingummy. Chlamydia, any one? I naturally have a touch of the hypochondria, so, of course, I have suspected the worst and have steadfastly kept away from the doctor out of fear, thinking it would clear up by itself. But, I had the realisation today that if it is not stomach cancer and not terminal, then there might be a very good reason for it and, therefore, a simple remedy and I don't have to go on in discomfort, like I am. Besides, I thought, better or not, what exactly am I waiting for before I go to the doctor? The passing of blood? Vomiting after food? So Thursday it is, wish me luck.