After I wrote this morning's entry I showered and started feeling crappy, pretty much in that order. I spent most of today convinced I was coming down with the office crud - sneezing, coughing, scratchy throat, headache - but it never got off the launch pad, so I went to the gym anyway. (Not to worry, my gym is staffed with people who do nothing but clean other people's germs fanatically, they circulate the weight room like Disinfectant Commandos, so either way I am fairly sure I encountered as many possible cold germs as I left.) I feel much better now. An hour of working out - half cardio, half weights - has done wonders. My sinuses no longer feel like they're about to go all snarky and I'm not coughing. The headache is still there but not as bad. Maybe I actually did sweat it out, and that's not just one of those things people say, like, "Walk it off!" (I actually heard a Psycho Playground Mom tell her two year old who had fallen on sharp gravel and needed comfort to "Walk it off!" And the poor little guy did - he already knew there was no comfort there.)
So, Bess made me do it:
You're Brigitte Bardot!
What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
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I think I'm Bardot because I like dogs, Paris is a great vacation, and my romantic meal involved wine and brie. It's because the meal was for "your boyfriend" and ain't nobody getting any after the other choices - chili and red wine? Yeah, I don't happen to find the campfire scene in Blazing Saddles a turn-on. Though I do make a baked beans recipe that is just amazingly wonderful but best served outdoors, if you know what I mean and I think you do, it isn't date food.
But I'll take Bardot. I've always admired her, especially as she matured and gave up the whole sex kitten gig to devote herself to animals. I could do that. But I'd like to have had the sex kitten bucks first....