Cool. Now my leg hurts, too.
Dear Internal Organs,
I know we share a love of Dr. House and his team. His wit, their charm, the knowledge that most of his patients walk out of the hospital alive and cured at the end of each episode . . .
The thing is, no matter how much bitching you do right now, Dr. House is not going to be able to come to the rescue. Stop with the pain, the nausea, and all the other fun symptoms you've thrown my way over the past few days and focus on burning fat or something useful. I'd rather be hunting down Elijah Wood than waiting for you to get us hospitalized in the vain hope that we'll get Dr. House's autograph while the show is still on the air.