Fine. See if I bring you juice when you've got a half-assed flu this weekend.
That's okay, because I will trundle you up to the emergency room later on when I'm all robust and you're oozing with full-assed flu.
(Actually, no, I just fret, because I think of poor marvelous Jim Henson, who died suddenly and stupidly of the flu the year I graduated from college, and how when my friends and I heard that news on NPR as we were all driving up to see the Spike & Mike animation festival in Rhinebeck, we all got hushed and sniffly, and I love you EVEN MORE THAN I LOVE JIM HENSON.)
Well, I think one half of this couple needs to start ailing this weekend and fail to garner sympathy for it...
Look at that, a literal case of ill-wishing.
That's a big love.
I love you more than Frank Oz, too, except that he hasn't gone and died of something idiotic that makes me go all "Bob could die of carrots, too!"
That's a big love.
No shit. I think she wants you to get the damned shot, already. Wimp.
"Bob could die of carrots, too!"
JZ, honey, his name is Hec, not Bob. Hec-U-Bot.
Are you sure you're going home to the right place every night?
Poor crazy JZ. The flu shot has already addled her brain.
Is either Lost or Veronica Mars a new ep tonight?
Is either Lost or Veronica Mars a new ep tonight?
Nope. And yet I still can't work up the energy to wash my dishes instead of watching a rerun.
Stands in craxynoflushots corner with Hec.
That is sad, Steph. Not as sad as what I will probably be doing in a few hours, but still sad.
