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The devil on her shoulder

While Michele is busy swooning, stumbling, snoozing, and puking her guts up, I figured I'd take a moment to do what she so rarely, if at all, does. Over there on the right margin you'll find a few ways to brighten up her otherwise bleary and dreary ill weekend:
  • The ASV Laptop Fund so she can blog from the GOP Convention in 2004.
  • Order an Advertisement on this site. Let people know that you support this kind of tomfollery, wistfulness, and woolgathering not only in spirit, but financially.
  • And then there's the Command Post thongs...
What? No Command Post thongs? Then what the Hell am I wearing right now? Maybe instead of a laptop, she could start small. Maybe some chicke soup. If you're voerly generous, she might be able to afford some noodles or matzoh balls in there. And if you're extremely generous, she could afford the whole matzoh and not the balls. Imagine, if you will, a swimming pool of chicken soup. I figure if you swam in that, you'd stay young and healthy like those old geezers in Cocoon did. Well, except that you'd smell like greasy chicken fat and salt. Sorta like the old geezers, I believe. (Get well soon, Michele. Your absence leaves some daunting shoes and cups to fill.)


Nice post. Get Well Michele and I want a thong, sorry.

Well, this could be one of three people, though one of those three would never be so charming and thoughtful.

Whoever you are, thank you. I'll be sure to think of Jessica Tandy next time I eat chicken soup.

Go back to bed ya goober. When mom is sick we all suffer.

Speaking of which, as a guy, we know for a fact that when we whine we get better quicker. It does not work for women. I do not know why.

Sleep, michele, sleep. It's the only thing that will get you over this.

I just realized I still have your login info. Muahahahahahahahahahaha! Feel better my dear.