My next hangover will be called the ‘wine flu.’

First of all, I don’t have swine flu. At least, I don’t think. This isn’t really the subject of this ramble, but as far as titles go, it never hurts to go with something topical.

I actually forced myself into work this morning. As I was driving, I knew it was a bad idea. My body was in the vehicle, but my head was still stuck in the sweaty-yet-chilled, between-paranoid-dreams void that was most of my night. I came home around eleven. Collapsed on the couch. Passed out for twenty minutes. Woke up to Bri¬†cranking Aerosmith. She hadn’t realized I’d come home. Anyway, I idled away an hour with the newspaper, reading all about the Canucks matchup with the Hawks, did the crossword (half-completed), did the Scrabble (fail), and the Junior Jumble (win). Bri and I then watched Identity, a John Cusack film I hadn’t seen, but was happy to watch. It gave me hope for the world. Well, that is, John himself did. Not the film. That was pretty bleak.

Anyway, I’m really just rambling now, happy I’m still alive and feeling somewhat better. Just glad I didn’t get sick off a pig. I also think that a potential threat to people getting checked out for swine flu is all in the name. I mean, that’s bad marketing, right there. Who wants to potentially be told that they have something so ridiculously named as “swine flu”? It’s just embarrassing.