I'm dyyyying. I hate, I hate, I hate Peter Pan!---er, or being sick; oh, and brussel sprouts, and slow or laggy web connections . . . and getting behind in classwork. Phooey.
I feel like I've been shot in the derriere w/ a tranquilizer dart better suited for a wooly mammoth. Ah, sweet tranquilized surrender . . . It would be grand if I was nine again and had little else to do other than to watch TV or bury my head under the blanket and make goofy noises. Maybe the fake NyQuil's still working its magic.
Oh, and Cowboy Bebop. Very cool 'toon.