One more note on the Scamper Last Waltz: advance tickets go on sale December 7. And I swear - that's all you're going to hear about this little show from me. We won't be obnoxiously whoring over the next few months at all.

In other news, it feels like a tarred-and-feathered boll weevil has lodged itself in my upper respiratory cavity, tickling me into lurching coughing fits every twelve minutes or so. But you'll be happy to know - it's a productive cough. Last night, my cough kept me up for hours building me a cozy breakfast nook and dictating a book of feminist slam poetry. So I can't be too mad, I guess.

Nyquil's a hell of a drug.