wuuugh

I have stopped the three-Tylenol/three-Advil entree of doom, simply because I'm afraid my liver's going to crawl up my throat and squirm to freedom if I keep this up. One of my back teeth's still giving me trouble (you know, the bite-down-and-fall-over-in-writhing-agony kind), but I don't want to bug the tooth-man about it. Maybe I'm just healing slowly as a result of living on milkshakes and gooey pasta alfredo for a week. I'm gonna see how long I can hold out without dropping pain meds -- not that they were sending me into fluttering-eyed bliss anyway, but they seemed to take the point off the nail in my jaw. Eh.

The Royals failed to score a single run yesterday, for the fourth day in a row. Of course, they weren't playing, but at least this time they had an excuse.

Saw Spidey, enjoyed. Saw trailer for the new Tim Allen Christmas movie, and you know, aside from the Botox scene (which I understand on a very basic level), I just can't not watch that movie enough. And the damned "Catwoman" movie...enough, already, we get it, whips, leather, PG-13 rating, no, no point at all.

Of note: blue roses. If I need to kill an hour at work, I sift through the Cellar IOTD archives. Much fun. Recommended.

How to Kill a Franchise, Chapter V

Star Trek XI: The Romulan Wars.

Yes, as in the pre-original-series wars. Apparently someone else is much more taken with the pre-history of the Trek universe than I am. But not too many others.

I feel the same way about Trek that Fry did in Futurama -- great affection, but mostly nostalgic, and a sense of utter loss at what it's become. Of course, in Futurama, its tapes had been launched to the forbidden planet Omega III and the cast exiled. We have "Enterprise." It's just a matter of time.