I can only hear out of one ear...

and apparently that's normal when sickness invades the body. I knew last week was too good to be true. I paid for all my bad juju wishing (on the Bush) by contracting the mack daddy of all colds. Lucky me. Oh well. At least I got to eat ice cream. I mean, if you have a ravaged throat, what else are you supposed to eat, right? I don't know what Samosas are (other than that they're Girl Scout cookies), but this ice cream is the best evah! We won't talk about all the other things one resorts to when bored but unable to leave one's domain...

But I did manage to finish Season 2 of The Tudors. I cried at the end, which made my already swollen and puffy face even more swollen and puffy. The woman who played Queen Anne is so pretty. I hated to see her pretty head cut off. Damn that King Henry. As an aside, I can never say "King Henry" out loud without singing his pretty, little diddy "Henry the VIII, I am, I am..." Oh and apparently on Who The Tudor Are You? I'm a Noble. I can live with that. For another 21 years, it seems. I didn't ask the stupid quiz to predict my death. Damn them. Oh and can we say beautiful people? I'm not sure who I like more...

Okay a compromise: She's prettier but he's hotter. Unless he's prettier. I'm unsure again.

I also watched the first two parts of the John Adams mini-series, mastered bit torrent downloading (finally!), discovered two new cds, lusted after Fernando Gonzalez and Rafa Nadal (they grow on you at 4:30 in the morning when the Australian Open is at its peak), did 7 loads of laundry, had an official taste test to finally decide if aged gouda or gruyere is the better cheese (gruyere wins), and decided where I'll put my new shoe rack when the beautiful new Orla Keily stuff arrives at Target.

For your viewing pleasure:

Gonzo

and Rafa: