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My body has been ravaged by some disease of uncertain origins. It started in my nose and, like all head colds, migrated down to my lungs where it has taken up residence. Right now, millions of white blood cells are waging a war somewhere in my resperatory system. Every now and then I hack up the casualties of this battle.

Lucky for me - it's not the nasty green of infection, but rather the thick nasty yellow of slain single celled organism.

My cats are confused with my behavior, which is me sleeping in bed and only rising for bathroom breaks, medication, and water. They think that I have been replaced with a giant pink slug, and they may be right. However, I do plan on going to work tomorrow as well as seeing Bruce Campbell. I'm charging the camera up as we speak.

For the time being, I am going to go back to bed and let my body kick some nasty martian death flu ass.
"The birds. The birds. Look at the birds."
whaaaaaat? what crucial plot point are you yelling at me? I can't hear you over the horrible acting!
Bagging on "War of the Worlds" just keeps on giving.
As god as my witness, I shall never hunger again!!
Which showing are you going to be at? We're hitting the 10pm one.