No, no, nooooooooo. I am not getting sick. I have too much work, homework, practice, etc. to do to get effing sick! Scratchy throat, coughy ickiness. Aaaaaaaaaaagh!
I'm also supposed to go see Napalm Death tomorrow night -- I can't be sick, no no no.
A friend loaned me a copy of "When the Drummers Were Women" by Layne Redmond, a great herstorical/personal accounting of the "spiritual history of rhythm". I'm only through the first chapter or so but re-inspired to pursue percussion in its various forms, and to ask others to join me.
I did the thing at playmash.com -- here are the results:
You will live in Apartment.
You will drive a pink Honda Civic.
You will marry **** (eh, wouldn't you like to know!) and have 500 kids.
You will be a Cheerleader in Hollywood.
I am soooo looking forward to living with my 500 kids in an apartment -- as A. said to me earlier, I will have the biggest cheerleading squad ever.
OK, I'm losing consciousness to sleep-inducing sicky medicine. G'night!