From the files of Doctor Michael Hunt

Despite a heavy schedule, I am pestered with looking after a few lost souls out there. This request came in this morning in the guise of a 'freudian slip'. She's a good one, luckily not terminal

 

Lulu Pie, do we really have to go over this again?

I really think Doctor Klebestrom should double the dosage on your prescription; it may be enough to kill a rhino, but it clearly has little effect on the ant farm that passes as your medulla oblongata.

We are (thankfully) not living together and never have (once again, thankfully), try remember how everything you saw, touched, heard and even smelt had some token reminder of me. The time when I was both Joe Black and Walker, Texas Ranger on SABC3 and E-TV at the same time should spring to mind. After the (dismal) failure of both EST and chemo we had to get a male figure into your life as a last vain effort to cure you. That (not surprisingly) proved almost impossible with most subjects quitting within the hour.

Luckily technology has come along way, and T1 is no longer on the sci-fi shelves. We procured a male cyborg, and programmed him to tolerate you (only some of the time, there is a limit to what's possible in quantum physics). As a laugh we gave him a dead-on-balls accurate Scottish accent, and even add a few afrikaans phrases every now and then when his Lithium fuel cells are getting recharged at the HQ up the R27. We called him 'Simon', but he is anything but simple.

This brings me to a very pertinent point(thankfully), your callous disregard for taking care of Simon. Six months ago you were the model owner of a cyborg - cooked, washed, tidied and even rubbed and oiled him in all the right places. If the line of interrogation that you reign down on him every evening continues, his patience circuitry might be damaged irrepairably. Just let the man enjoy his sport after a long day recharging, your feelings are of little (if any) concern to him. For your own good, bake him a cake, pick up his clothes, clean his bike and don't ask any piercing questions anymore. Ever.

oh yes, taking him out for a romantic dinner wouldn't hurt. I can recommend House of Rasputin on Main Road; feed him and feast his eyes, and then when you get home show him that while you yourself are no robot(no sh1t, sherlock) you can give Tatiana, Olga and the rets of those Latvians a run for their money.

good luck,

the Doc

ps. I am happy to see that your winter sickness blog is at least getting an irregular dust off;. Long live the Life o' Flu;, even if most of us have had the necessary sniffs, coughs and innoculations by now.

----- Original Message -----

From:

Louise Corbett

To:

Steven Burnett

Sent:

Monday, June 04, 2007 12:36 PM

Subject:

dinner

I was thinking we haven't been out for a 'romantic' dinner in a while and it has just gone 6 months we've been living together....maybe we should go out to dinner soon and celebrate 6 months of not being at each others throats??

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http://lifeoflu.blogspot.com/