I’m staying in the dirtiest hostel on the planet right now. I’m not even exaggerating, y’all – this morning I went to wash my socks in the bathroom and there was an onion in the sink.

I was already fairly certain I’d contracted TB after I accidentally touched that communal hand towel in Auckland, but I just took a shower in the bathroom where people throw their food, and now there’s no question. I’m definitely going to die.

…Which would normally be a problem since I don’t have health insurance and I haven’t even married Martin Sexton yet, but none of that matters because:



Most of you know Caitlin, so you get how completely-freaking-great this is. But for those of you who don’t – how do I describe this? – Caitlin is like the opposite of a horrible disease. She is double rainbows and sneezing puppies and perfectly-mixed slurpees. She’s one of those People You Love So Much it’s Hard Not to Be Creepy About It. She’s also Australian, which makes her even better, because Australians are always more awesome than normal people, even the shitty mean ones.

Me and Caitlin are gonna talk about boys and make cookies and have all kinds of deep conversations about how much she’s going to miss me when my Ebola kicks in. She is going to cry and I’m going to pat her perfect hair and say things like “there, there” and it will be completely wonderful. I’m so excited about it.

I’m also excited because I get to sleep in the same bed for the next 12 nights in a row. I don’t even care that there are probably spermbugs in the mattress, I am ready to slow the eff down for a minute. The last month has been sort of way too much. Good things, mostly – new friends and fancy meals and this awesome yoghurt-flavored soda Eric introduced me to…


…but I’ve also been feeling a fair amount of “Jesus Christ I’m so freaking tired” and “Waaaaait, where did all my money go?” and “Crap, I hope I don’t pass my Smallpox to Caitlin when I see her.” It’s been a little stressful.

So. The next two weeks are for breathing and catching up on things and drumming up some work to refill the coffers.*

And for finding a cure for my Malaria.

And for braiding Caitlin’s hair.


*If you want to make my final days more comfortable by assisting in my coffer-filling, you are welcome to hire me to do stuff for you

**Alternatively, if you’d like to just give me lots of money to write this blog instead of doing real people work, I will promise at least a couple of posts about how creepy my feelings for you are. (My paypal is under kellyiclaus@gmail.com.)

***If you can’t do either of those things, I would accept a marriage proposal from Martin Sexton. Or at least a tweet telling me how sad he is that I have Syphilis. (Here’s his twitter if you want to PM him about it: www.twitter.com/martin_sexton)

****No pressure on any of this.

*****Even though I’m dying.

Read an update on my health here.

A thousand puppies will live forever if you share this post, I totally swear.

A thousand puppies will live forever if you share this post, I totally swear.

Want some creepy emails from me?

I don't even know why this is a question.

Sweet. Check your email, dood.

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