Geoff Duncan

Me, I'm just an incubator for our nation's poor, tired, and hungry respiratory infections. Winter officially begins tomorrow (Merry Yule, I suppose) and I'm already on my third illness of the season. (Snork. Sniff. Cough. Pheh.) They've all been different. First one moved from a deluge out my nose straight to my chest and hung on for nearly two weeks. The second one went straight for my stomach, bringing fatigue, nausea, and joint pain along with it, but dissipated after a few days. And the latest one is currently sitting at the back of my throat, hurting, swelling things up, and doing the whole post-nasal drip thing.

Personally, I think I picked them up at Costco. You know, the five-gallon jumbo-sized drum of holiday illnesses, right next to the $5,000 televisions, the bathroom gift packs, and the Aisle of Lost Children.

But, collectively, they seem to be a great weight loss mechanism. Over the last few weeks I've been eating significantly greater-than-normal amounts of food, and managed to lose five pounds. (Hack! Snork. Wheeze.) I think it was all gunk.