Vee Speers

 

 

I’m down with some kind of bronchial plague, an upper respiratory-inflaming, sinus-bunging, synapse-clogging nightmare of . . . well, I’ll spare you the mucocious particulars. I blame it on vehicle air conditioning, but hey, I’m no physiologist. Suffice it to say, I wake up in the morning feeling like a Mac truck is parked between my eyes and a hound of hell is breathing chili- and jet fuel-fired nastiness at my lung walls, just for fun. Thankfully, crappy TV, the internuts, and chocolate pudding are rallying to rescue me from total mental and physical collapse.

Her Website

Share