why oh why do I do this to myself?

I stayed home from work today because the funk is still infesting my body and the voice is still MIA. Sick days really suck as an adult. I'm going to have a mountain of work waiting for me tomorrow and more importantly, daytime television does not hold the same allure as it once did. I used to love to stay home from school and watch reruns, game shows and Divorce Court. The current crop of shows leaves me uninspired. The news is just awful and I'm pacing myself with the Ronald Reagan coverage since it's going to go on all week (at least). Thanks to the beauty that is In Demand, I escaped for a few hours while watching Party Monster and 28 Days Later.

Party Monster was interesting but I found Macauley's performance uneven and at times, squirm-inducing. 28 Days Later scared the shit out of me. Only Danny Boyle could make me sit through a movie about rage-filled chimps and blood-thirsty, vomiting zombies without me providing a sarcastic running commentary throughout. There was nary a wisecrack. Instead, I watched most of the film with my hands clasped over eyes while peering through the tiniest of peepholes between my ring finger and pinky. I realize it was a complete work of fiction but it's now several hours later and I'm still creeped out. The Silence of the Lambs was the last film to have this effect on me. I saw that movie at an afternoon showing but damn if I didn't stop every few feet and look over my shoulder when walking home from the theater. Now guess who's going to be sleeping with the light on tonight?