All fucked up on Theraflu and nowhere to go. I've been counting the hours between doses of drugs in order to avoid another "overdose"...and that has pretty much been my day. Perhaps by tomorrow I'll be able to speak and/or breathe clearly again so I don't sound like a mutant answering the phone at work. That'd be nice.

I watched the Vikings today and was glad to see I did my part to help them to victory. Joey Harrington was in my elevator yesterday, and I was just waiting for the announcers to say he woke up feeling a bit under the weather this morning. No such luck, but apparently it wasn't necessary. All I can say is those football players have some mighty flashy suits.

After bringing the boys up to their rooms yesterday, I did what seemed logical and headed down to the bar with Missy to watch the players wander aimlessly in and out of the lobby before hopping in town cars to check out the town. I hear hard liquor helps with colds, but I can attest that beer does not And we couldn't just stop after one or two drinks (and a meal) because the big guy came down and said he'd sign off on the tab. I love that man. After five or so vodka and tonics, Missy made herself stop out of fear that she was going to say something to him to embarrass herself. Just like a blubbering ten-year-old, that girl.

The only other excitement within sight is that Willy Wonka comes out on DVD this week. I smell a Tuesday lunch break trip to Target.