on yugoslavian resistance groups and barry gibb's dentures, among other things

I have now reached Day 6 of The Funk That Won't Leave. The strangling 3AM coughing fits are holding steady and as such, I continue to become reacquainted with the early seasons of 80s sitcoms on Nick at Nite.

The real bummer about this cold is that I don't have my usual accompanying sexy sick voice. I usually get this hot raspy thing going on but I sound more like Fran Drescher than Janis Joplin this time around. It's sad, really.

I've also been having some really funky dreams. I passed out during the day yesterday and boy, did my subsconscious have a time of it. I dreamt that I was part of some armed resistance group in the former Yugoslavia. And the dude from The Full Monty was there. Alas, he wasn't naked nor did he dance around to "I Believe in Miracles." Bummer.

Last night I dreamt that I went on an interview at HBO (not where I work/will be working, FYI) and I was taken into a room where I was grilled by a panel of lame question-asking corporate suits. I could see them deriving pleasure as I squirmed and floundered while trying to tackle their poorly-worded queries.

It was one of those dreams that felt like it was endless. It was so frustrating. I understand why I had the dream though -- I've been approached about a new position and part of me is concerned that my job will be nebulous and ill-defined. The Yugoslavian rebel strike force dream, however, well, that's just baffling.

I'm a little down in the mouth but once I rid myself of the evil that's been plaguing my body, I'll be back into the swing of things. However, I have been able to amuse myself lately by making fun of Barry Gibb's dentures. It's a really effective treatment. Try it sometime.