Its the smiling on the package, its the faces in the sand....

Oh yeah. I am feeling pretty good.
Not like over-the-top peeing my pants good, but a fuck of a lot better than I did a couple of hours ago.
You see, I went to a chiropractor.
I've had a headache, on and off, for about ten years, and its caused by my sore neck (took me a while to figure that out. Not too smart). Sore necks, in fact fucked up necks in general are part of the tribal curse, along with ridiculously long legs, great teeth and being a bit bonkers. So I left it alone, thinking that I'd just have to learn to live with it. Then I realised that was a dumb idea, and that I needed to fix it. I figure, if your necks sore then its probably related to your spine, given that it is, well, your spine.
So I got a referral to a chiropractor, and went to see her today, and after some prodding and bending and poking (not as filthy as it sounds) she concluded that my spine is twisted, both at the top and the bottom.
Which pretty much explains everything that has ever been wrong with me. Physically, that is. It still doesn't explain why I am not Viggo Mortensen's love slave, but we'll just take things one day at a time shall we?

In other news, Spooks was quite sad last night. Zoe got shipped off to Chile cos she got done for killing an undercover cop while on the job, and the government were being all "lets lay the smackdown on MI5" and it was quite sad, especially when Danny had to say goodbye to her, cos hes completely in love with her.
But according to the Spooks site, Danny is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, which is a shame cos hes not to hard to look at.

Anyway, its time to go off to the supermarket now and buy some more tomatoes.
I lead such an interesting life.