Yesterday Rob and I were both hit with the stomach flu. We spent the evening in the living room, Rob on the sofa and I on the love seat, moaning and shivering and writhing in discomfort and occasionally looking at each other and laughing because the situation was that pathetic. Bridget sat in the middle of the room watching us and mocking the weakness of our species. Of course she refused to help us in any way, so we had to take turns hobbling, bent over, to the kitchen to fetch more Sprite and crackers. Wrapped in blankets, we watched Veronica Mars DVDs through a feverish haze, and then we drugged ourselves and dragged ourselves to bed. And as bizarre as this sounds, it's going to be a fond memory of mine. Misery loves company, and when you have good company, misery's not so bad.

Today we both stayed home, still sick. I was flipping through the channels and arrived upon The View just in time for them to announce that today's guest would be John Stamos. How lucky was that?! And can I just say? Totally worth being sick for! When he came out, Joy said something about how whenever John Stamos is on the show, it's like confetti is coming out of her vagina. Or something like that - I was a little woozy (not to mention the flu). But I'm pretty sure that's what she said. And, really, I couldn't have said it better myself.