November is upon us. November is NaNoWriMo, which means that I will be inspired to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. I have participated the last two years, and I’ve had a blast each time. Because I’m CDO, I wrote 150,000 words the first year and roughly 125,000 last year. Maybe I’ll hit 200,000 this year!
Anyway, I just want to let you all know that my blogging will most likely be severely curtailed during this month. I will do my best to post when I can, but I will be pretty consumed with cranking out the fiction. I already have the story outline, the plot, most of the characters, and even the ending in mind. Now, I just have to write it. Wish me luck!
As I a writing this, it’s almost 11:30 p.m., Central Whatever Time. In approximately half an hour, 
I don’t feel like writing new content today, so I am publishing reviews of movies that were so bad, I didn’t finish watching them. I decided since I had to sit through at least ten minutes of each one, you should have to read a short review that should take even less time to read than it did for me to watch these turkeys. So, for your dubious pleasure, I give to you: Donnie Darko, Never Come Back, Maybe Baby, and Paperback Romance. Enjoy.
Yes, I am now probiotics rather than antibiotics. Taking the latter is making me quite nauseous. A few friends suggested taking the former to counter the latter. It was a good suggestion. 
Still under the weather, and I have to do more cleaning. So, for today, I am posting old essays that wax poetic on all things, er, people British. I have a fascination with British people (including Scottish, Irish, and Welsh), and I have no rational explanation for it.
Ok. You know the drill by now. I am sick; I don’t feel like writing something new; I have tons of old writing to dump on you. Besides, I didn’t feel comfortable publishing these during the W. era, so I waited until now. I should be safe, right? Another reason W. is on my mind is because Keith had a 
The thing that is supposed to cure me makes me feel worse. This is the irony of taking antibiotics. I avoid them as much as I can. I hate taking antibiotics for many reasons, but I am desperate. So, I buy the horse pills, and I swallow them. I have to take two a day, twelve hours apart. They are huge eclair-shaped tablets, not capsules, and they don’t feel very good going down. They are making me more nauseous and weaker than I was before I took them, and I can only hope they actually do their job.
Amoxicillin, that is. I have drugs now, and I am reluctantly taking them–knowing that the side effects will be unpleasant. I can but hope that they will aid in my recovery.
Still sick. I have the lovely taste of phlegm wedged in the back of my (very sore) throat. Still coasting by on old essays. This time, it’s about the dearly-departed comic strip, The Boondocks. I loved that strip. The essay below contains all the reasons why. See, I can actually praise something rather than just criticize.