everyone got sick.



ross talked to chiefs.



i talked to elves.



andrew probably talked to some asian vampire pixies. i can't remember what those are called--my monster manual is packed away somewhere.



jason did not get sick. fucking guitar players have all the luck.



i don't think that i've ever been so ill.



i only suffered through work one day this week. it's a good thing because some shit got fucked up with 2/3 of my duplicators. its not that difficult to feed them oil when they ask for it--at least that's what i thought.



i haven't killed any of cindy's pets. this anemone has me worried but i can't tell if coelenterates are alive or not. i assume that it would dissolve, or those mean little clown fishes would move out if it was dead.



we're playing another show at the climax on the 5th. no one was really positive about that one, but it is indeed happening. wull is actually going to try to make it out for that one.



my mother invited me to thanksgiving dinner. i said no since i've been so fucking sick. i don't want those clowns to get sick--it would likely kill the old guy. it would be funny to tease him about chopping off fingers in the lawn mower, though. i think that i'll go see a movie, and infect the theater instead.



gobble gobble