My head hurts.

Everytime i cough, my head feels like it is going to crack open like an egg. I told Steven tonight that I feel like i've been fighting something off for a couple of weeks...now i'm thinking maybe i've lost the battle. And Steven tells me that Trotsky is illin, something about his mouth, yelping, not barking, not eating. Now he's eating and barking a little bit, but Steven is still going to take him to the vet to make sure he doesn't have some horrible disease. Okay, this bleak Tuesday night post is coming to an end.

On a brighter note, i'm listening to a nice podcast from this guy in San Francisco named Chad Fox. He has an interesting blog, and really wacked taste in music, I always love his selections. And he does full podomatic mixing and always includes some wierd retro commercials and stuff, and with his radio announcer voice-overs, DAWN, he reminds me of Mark Tweed (in a kinda non-Southern way--he's a Mark Tweed from Cleveland).

Check it, and click on the STMF 6 link after the litany of lovely San Francisco photos:


Took some Tylenol geltabs with a sniff of Chivas. Nightey night.

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