Je Suis Souffrir, Aussi

For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to hang out with the Texas kids until 3 in the morning, bitching about how there are no naked girls in Playboy anymore and watching Brantley play Counterstrike, when I clearly should have been in bed because I'm. Still. Sick. You know that part in the movie The Wedding Singer (shut up, you totally saw it and secretly enjoyed it) when Adam Sandler sings the song he wrote and it ends with "I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie, put a bullet in my he-e-e-e-ead"? Well, I sing that constantly in my mind whenever I don't feel awesome, which is basically always in the hideous pollution-filled city chambers of London.

Anyway, the point is, I am once again not at work. I had every intention of going, but I got to the pharmacy and realized that I felt just crap and if I did show up I wouldn't be capable of doing much work, so I called my boss from there, bought some Vitamin C and Zinc and Paracetemol, bought some food for lunch and went home. Unfortunately Erin is taking a nap right now when I want to lie down and read, so I figured I'd lie down on the couches down here and read, but I've taken a closer look at the couches and that thought is not so appealing. So it's all sitting up all the time, even though I feel like my head weighs 45 pounds and I keep having waves of hot and cold flashes.

I wish I were watching the new James Bond movie right now. It looks totally badass. I don't think Daniel Craig is particularly attractive, but he has that darkly brooding quality that I find appealing and that has been lacking from the James Bond role since Sean Connery left it. Instead of being a vacuous pretty-boy (Roger Moore) or a psychopath slapped into a suit (Timothy Dalton,) Daniel Craig looks like he knows a thing or two about seducing a lady and bareknuckle boxing. And that's just hot.