Yes, still sick. With periods of better, mostly prompted by Theraflu Severe Cold, followed by periods of wooziness. Johnny Depp's on TV doing a sat interview for Secret Window, talking about how much he admires his mother, which is sweet. (And it turns out that just like the majority of Kentucky women of a certain age she's named Betty Sue -- my mom's Betty Lou.)

Barth's right -- go read the pleasantly creepy "Louisa, Johnny and the North Shore Huldre" by S. Evans over at Strange Horizons.

Wonkette and her readers are having fun with the Bush/Cheney custom poster generator on their official campaign website.

And Kelly sends this link, which is scary.

Me and George will just be here trying not to move too much. George sleeping, me alternating between reading The Moviegoer and The Jane Austen Book Club.

Perhaps I am crazy, but I remember trashy daytime TV being more enjoyable than what I've been able to find today. And you know what? You people who dress up your pets in little princess costumes on Animal Planet? You are sick. Your pets do not like it. Your pets pray that they will be able to escape, but are kept docile by treats and so forget to run away. It is wrong. You are bad people. That is all.

worm: nothing on MTV

today's fave post: "Death" by Maud Newton

namecheck: Whoever Invented Theraflu