well, it's happened. the plague that's been going around the office has struck me. so far I've got a swollen and sore throat, hacking cough, headache, overallache, and low grade fever (the kind that makes just brushing against your clothes hurt). those who have already been stricken have advised me to batten down the hatches for at least 2 days off my feet at home, but I'm not missing work unless the need is very dire. but if I'm not improved by wednesday I'll see what the doc's got to say.

according to his online journal, stuart murdoch is a) freshly single and b) sexually frustrated. heh...step into my office, baby.

I started writing this really pseudo-intellectual thingie today about paranormal versus supernatural fiction writing. my theory is that it takes more talent to write effectively visceral supernatural work because all the elements must be conjured up from scratch. in paranormal fiction, parts of it already exist--therefore, it's easier to make them frightening/disturbing; one only has to make them behave in abnormal ways. hmm...I was able to make that a lot clearer earlier. shit, I'm tired.

goal updates:
weight--stable.
bank balance--decidedly unstable (stupid rent. stupid dry cleaning. stupid CVS. STUPID!)

I am so tired of credit card commercials in general. in every one, they show the card being swiped WITH THE STRIPE UP! hellooooo! that won't work! I don't care if you're showing off the name of your precious Discover card, let's have some realism here!

for some reason my nyquil's made me hyper. I'll go stare goggle-eyed at the wall (or perhaps wall-eyed, har har) and try to sleep. try.