In sickness and in... less sickness

I once read a book that asserted that the one weapon that could end war altogether was a gun that shot out a beam that disrupted the enemy's inner ear. Reduce your enemy to a helpless puking mess on the ground and the concept of heroics or wartime glory would depart forevermore.

Am feeling 90% better than I did last night, but still closely akin to warmed-over ick. Not even a nap, two Gravols, and losing my lunch onto Chris' bathrobe helped last night. The smell of pizza, chocolate, and Greek takeout made me close my door in despair and wish for a quick death. UGH.

I'm Ennery the Eighth I am...

We're currently studying Henry VIII and Elizabeth I:

Me: ::read description of The Other Boleyn Girl:: Mmm, yeah, nope, I don't think you guys should watch this movie. I might rent it for Daddy and me, but I don't think it's appropriate for you guys.
Daniel: Why not?
Me: Well for one thing, Spoiler Alert: everyone dies. Badly. Like, everyone. Anne, George, their father, mother...
Daniel: Even Henry VIII?
Justin: Daniel, duh, of course! Remember, Henry VIII? He died one of England's worst kings, with six wives, old and fat and gross and with an enormous scrotum!