sick in the head

I've been sick as the proverbial dog all week, with a chest cold that just won't quit. (Probably not helped along by the bouts of binge drinking, but that makes no nevermind.)
The cough got the best of me Wednesday, when I actually called in sick to work and spent the day either sleeping or lying on the couch watching really embarrassingly bad television.
This always happens.
I get a little bug and next thing I know, I completely lose the ability to resist when my remote control roulette lands on a loser. Tuesday night — I'm not making this up — I actually sat through Troy. What in the holy hell was Brad Pitt thinking? The hair says South Beach gigolo. The costumes say Caligula meets International Male. I said, "More, please!" — because I then actually suffered through another Pitt stain, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
Now, this train wreck will go down as one of those movies more famous for what happened off-screen than on, and I was marginally intrigued to see if Brangelina had any actual chemistry. They don't. Pitt looks like he's in pain for the whole laborious affair, and so was I.

The good news: The cold seems to be subsiding, and last night the BF and I took in a surprisingly satisfying little queer comedy, appropriately titled Another Gay Movie. In a spoof of American Pie, four gay grads vow to lose their virginity in the summer before college. A Pride parade of anal sex jokes follows. It's so wrong, it's right. Actually, it's just wrong, but hilarious.
When this queer keeper opens in your town, buy a ticket and get ready to clutch the pearls. Yes, it would've been better with a few drinks beforehand, but seriously, I'm trying to heal.