There’s a plastic bag hanging off the draw of my desk near my bed, hung there for the sole purpose of containing the tissues I coughed my will-never-be-a-trendy-feature-wall-coloured sputum into so I didn’t have to keep getting up, thus preventing a heap of filthy tissues piling up on my floor. It’s pretty full right now.

This morning I thought of posting a photo of it on Instagram saying “a tissue for everyone of my issues”.

Then I thought that there was probably a cracking metaphor in there somewhere, but I was too lousy to draw parallels between my current situation in life and a plastic bag full of snotty, phlegm-socked tissues.

I know that a healthier, yet equally as cynical, Dannielle could have done it with relative ease. But today I just couldn’t make the connection. Instead, I just went and lay down.

In fact, just writing the above 100-or-so words was tiring enough, let alone having to succinctly sum up your current situation, apply it to the context of the dank rubbish bag and think up yet another term for “yucky coloured gunk you splutter up when you’re sick” so you don’t overuse the word “phlegm”. I did, however, learn once and for all how to correctly spell phlegm today, so it’s not a total waste.

So, in the attempt to both satisfy my anxious need to post regular content on my self-important blog and be sympathetic to my limp-minded state, I give you another bloody Sunday of self-indulgently answering questions about myself in a bid to win your admiration.

Some of these questions I found form looking at job interview questions on the internet, some I just made up. Try to guess which is which!

What’s the last thing you watched and why did you watch it? I watched that episode of Sex and the City from season one where Carrie goes out on a date with a French architect and wakes up with $1000. It has to be one of my favourite episodes.

Firstly, there’s the scene where Carrie, Miranda and Samantha are in a fancy hotel room eating a luxe room service breakfast and decide to order a second, for-the-table salmon eggs benedict. That’s livin’ Barry.

Secondly, Carrie gets free shoes. Sure, they look like they came in a plastic bag with a four-year-old’s fairy princess costume set, but they were spency and totes free.

Lastly, Carrie gets paid for something she was going to do anyway. That’s like someone paying me to make complain about Daylight Savings or make a cup of tea. I don’t want to be one of those people who classify all women together in a neat little box for comedic purposes (we just love chocolate, am I right sistas, LOOOOOL) so I’ll just say this: it would be my dream to wake up after a fabulous day and evening of excellent sex to an empty bed, $1000 in cash and the opportunity to luxe out on room service. I’m sure there would be many people who would agree with me.

So, yeah long story short, I spent my Saturday night watching Sex and the City, hoping my financial woes would magically be solved by French architect with no follow ups.

What’s you favourite colour? Blue. But it depends on the context. I like a strong, dark blue in some instances, but would probs opt for a more duck egg blue if we were talking interiors. I’d opt for a black car over a blue one, however.

What’s your favourite vegetable? As a staunch carrot lover, it’s hard for me to nominate any others to sit above this crunchy orange conical stick of fibre. I mean, I had three extremely large carrot drawings on my walls for a large hunk of my young adult life.

However, I’m definitely into sweet potato and am right into my Brussles sprouts at the moment. For some reason we were never a sprouts household, so my opinion of the mini cabbages was based purely on the strongly negative reaction of kids in American television shows.

Now, as a seasoned adult, I like to fry the little bastards in olive oil, season with salt and pepper and sometimes chuck in a few bits of bacon.

You’ve been given an elephant. You can’t give it away or sell it. What would you do with the elephant? I’d try to sneak it into various meetings so I could interrupt with a dramatic, “I think we need to address the elephant in the room”.

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag? Apparently, yes. Sometimes I feel empty. Sometimes I feel like I’m full of rubbish. Other times I feel like I’ve been shoved under the kitchen sink.

What do you do for yourself? Sometimes I post carefully constructed photos on Instagram to enjoy the steady stream of likes I get in a bid to feel as if I did something of substance that day. On Friday I took 24 photos of a hot chook from various angles, but I cracked the 50 likes mark, so it was worth it.

What do you do to keep yourself centred? Boil the kettle.

What is your spiritual practice? Watching Practical Magic.

Tell me something that’s true, that almost nobody agrees with you on? Dachshunds are not cute. They are aggressive little jerks who can barely walk. They probs have the right to be cranky considering the entire purpose of the agony of their existence is to be a novelty canine cylinder.

What would someone who doesn’t like you say about you? “Bitch needs to stop shedding her hair everywhere like a border collie.”

It’s true, I leave hair EVERYWHERE. This is helpful in two ways. Firstly, it keeps me from doing illegal things because I know my traitorous strands will lead the CSI guys to me like a trail of breadcrumbs. I don’t know exactly what kind of criminal life I’d be leading if my hair didn’t shed so much, but considering my appalling lying abilities it’s probably best I lead the life of a law abiding citizen.

Secondly, I like to think that if I ever get kidnapped, my hair will led the CSI guys to me like a trail of breadcrumbs. Hopefully I’ll be the person in the episode they manage to find just before any lasting physical or mental damage is inflicted on me and I manage to get a book deal out of it. I really want to meet Oprah.

What have you invented? Most of my problems.