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But wait, there's more.
There's just no polite way to say "Buy me things", is there?
Need a band name?
rant is where the heart is
entry for 2000-08-06 (12:15:51)
In which our plucky young hero sleeps in.
I have no idea why I sleep in the specific pattern I do, but whatever's responsible for it, if you could go throw yourself under a long-haul truck and have nine wheels carrying a few tons of Coke drive right over your little weasel neck, I'd appreciate it, thanks.
Went to bed last night reasonably early, for me, at 1:30am. I had been up early because yesterday I was planning on hitting the Fringe, but the sky wide opened and poured a few inches of water onto the city in a manner of minutes, so I decided against it. (I got soaked in the ten seconds it took me to open the inner window so I could close the outer window. Like hell I was going outdoors in that.)
So I wake up today at fiveinthegoddamnmorning. Yes, that's all one word. One indistinct, mumbled word. Because there's nothing like talking to yourself to make even the most ridiculous facts seem obvious and logical. "Fiveinthegoddamnmorning. GottaholeinmyheadifI'mupnow. Fumph mumble. Guess I'll try to sleep more."
Then I woke up at nine o'clock, which makes more sense but not a lot.
And again at ten-thirty, which is finally approaching an hour when sane people roust themselves from slumber.
I have no idea exactly why my internal clock won't just trust my alarm to go off at the appointed hour (the aforementioned 10:30) and wake me. Alarm clocks can't double-cross you; they are too stupid to know the concept of betrayal.
Anyway, this is what I'm doing instead of hopping in the shower so I can trek down to Broadway and see more theater today, under a clear blue sky. So I'm going to stop doing it now. Resume your dreary business, or at least take a nap.(Browse: previous or next. Notes: post or read.)
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