I guess you can't keep burning the candle at both ends without running up against the Wall-O-Consequences sooner or later. I woke up this morning sounding like a broken accordion; it hurts to move pretty much anything, and the bones in my skull feel very very thin. I think I can feel my brain thumping back and forth inside.
At least this explains why I've been in such a foul mood the past few days -- I've been scowling at everything, and I've been hard-pressed to refrain from spitting on some of my co-workers. And yesterday I started yelling and stomping about how ridiculous the reviews for fucking Brokeback Mountain are -- oooh, look at the actors being so fucking brave for KISSING A GUY ooooooooooooooo. Well, fuck you, fucking movie reviews, and fuck you too, hot actors, for patting yourselves on the back so hard. Get the fuck over it. If Alan Cumming (or Rupert Everett!) made out with some woman in a movie, nobody would give him a fucking Oscar because he was so BRAVE. Fucking fuck them and their fucking condescension. I wouldn't see your fucking movie if you paid me.
See. That's my point. I get sick and I just get all angry and ill-tempered.
Also if I am not well by Saturday? Heads will roll.