Battling the Death Flu and Jamie Foxx

I am taking a sick day from work right now; and what's worse, is that I'm taking a sick day because I'm actually sick, not just mildly unhappy or allergic to fluorescent lighting. It's a beautiful, sunny day outside (probably the last we will see until next July or so), and I have approximately five hundred thousand things to do, including

1. Get driver's license so I can finally stop being in direct violation of the law
2. Register to vote
3. Buy medicine
4. Not only do I have the flu, I think I might have a bad case of BO-GO!

And instead of stopping my criminal ways or buying cute new shoes so I can finally fit in at the office, I am resigned to watching reruns of Grease on VH1 (Movies that ROCK!) and sniffling miserably on the couch while the dog pouts.

But this is good, because it allows me to get some feelings off my chest. Some feelings about Jamie Foxx. Conflicted feelings, since I have had a great, irrational hatred of Jamie Foxx ever since Ray came out (I didn't even see Ray, so I don't know what my problem was). I just really, really, really, really hated Jamie Foxx. I hate Tom Cruise, too, but I think the reasoning behind that is a lot more obvious.

So this past weekend, before the death flu, I saw Jarhead, which I greatly enjoyed. And it made me not hate Jamie Foxx quite so much. And then, with the help of my mad downloading skillz, I jumped on the Kanye West train about six weeks too late and picked up "Golddigger," which, no lie, features Jamie Foxx.

And I love that song.
And I loved Jarhead.

Does this mean that I love Jamie Foxx, too?