Sometimes I think I'm just a spaceship operated by a tiny team of cellular adventurers. I imagine a microscopic Captain Kirk hunkered deep down inside me, commanding his crew of neurons and hormones to boldly go where no human spaceship has gone before. Sometimes I can even hear the little Kirk talking. "Stardate: 2012-04-01: Crew morale low. Haven't tapped any alien ass in ages. Must... Get... Extra.... Terrestrial... Action! Mr. Sulu, chart a course to Chicktron in the outer rim of the Pussy Galaxy! Engage!"