Self medication!

Here's to hoping that I won't keel over and/or have to have my stomach pumped it I take two of these shitacular fakeass Sudafed PE that don't work in the recommended dose of one. And an advil. This congestion is beginning to hurt, a lot. Then, if that works, I'll make myself some coffee and a bowl of cereal and get on with my day like a human being. If not, I'll sloth around for a couple of hours, and then get on with my day like a zombie. Neither of these are particularly bad options, but frankly, I'd prefer the former if possible. It sounds more productive.

Quality Television

Alright, if I've ever said anything that could be construed as remotely negative about CSI Miami I TAKE IT ALL BACK.

Let me enumerate just a few of the myriad reasons I now support this incredible bastion of high-quality broadcasting:

1: Episode starts with with a female investigator (1b: hot, they're all hot, every single one is young and hot) dusting a table top. The angle of the shot is close and on a level with the table so as better to display the action of the dusting. Oh, and her ample breasts barely holstered by the low v-neck shirt she's wearing, pressed against the table. Now, I have it on good authority, that is, authority based on my talking to two boys I know, that if they had breasts, and were investigating a crime=scene, they would totally press them on things. Especially things they were dusting for fingerprints. (to note, the next shot cut back and she wasn't pressed against the table anymore).

2: This episode begins with a guy inadvertently running over a landmine, which blows him sky high. Sky high, and totally in tact. I mean, the dude died, of course, but he had all his limbs and was pretty recognizable. Sweet! (Yea, he looks pretty good, on that thar autopsy table).

3: (edit) Horatio Caine has hypnotic powers.

I'm sure there are more.