I don't get sick very often. Maybe one cold a year. Haven't had a stomach flu since first grade, when I barfed all over the classroom floor and my Incredible Hulk costume at my class's Halloween party. I don't know why, but I seem to have ninja-esque white blood cells who chop chop chop the sickness out of my system the moment it arrives. YES I'M BRAGGING because I like bragging about it, especially since it's just the way things are for me. It's like pretty people bragging about being pretty, or people with four arms bragging about having four arms: you didn't really do anything to actually earn these accolades you're pouring all over yourself, but go right ahead! I'm not a bragger, but I'm proud of my immune system that has little to do with my actions.
But don't worry, I'm sure I'll get my comeuppance somehow. I probably have 14-17 types of cancer, Ebola, consumption, Scarlet Fever, Pac-Man Fever, Restless Leg Syndrome, and, somehow, the Black Plague all simmering deep in my bones and organs, lying in wait until I shoot my mouth off one time too many, and then they'll all spring themselves on me at once and everyone can laugh at me as I bubble and dissolve away like I'm trapped in the ending of Evil Dead. Yay, something for us all to look forward to! I hope I leave a big stain.
The point of all this is, I wrote about horror movie hospitals this week at AMC and you should read it.