On top of catering to my visitors, I probably provide the sites that I link to an additional 2-3 hits per day. What would they do if I chose to not write one day simply because I hadn't slept in 48 hours? If I deprived them of those expected and coveted hits? As you can see, I am a very important part of this life-granting food chain. Oh, how the pressure is mounting...
I usually sit down every morning with something clever to say; something I know will leave my loyal readers with a bounce in their collective step for the remainder of the day. But today, I am tired. I didn't sleep at all last night. I had anxiety dreams about work. I received a call from an annoying friend. I dreaded waking up early to go to the gym. I dreaded not waking up early to go to the gym. I dreaded being awake until the point that I'm supposed to either wake-up or not wake-up to go to the gym—all of this with insomniatic precision. I made the mistake of anticipating the emails I'd receive at work today. I traveled to the couch and back, hoping the new environment would provoke sleep. It didn't.
Anyway, the point is, today I have but a list of topics that, under normal circumstances, I would discuss in full detail. But, today, no.
List:
- I received my first Bastardly whore story submission last night. Within this submission lived the phrase "Plowing that Piggy." I could expand, but again, no...
- Some annoying girl on the subway yesterday—instead of simply moving out of the way so that new passengers could board—chose to get loud, voicing repeatedly her opinion that, "People need to learn to say excuse me. It works, you know?!" Look, bitch: I hate to break it to you, but they're not the ones in the way. Got it? Now, shut up.
- One of the guys who I'm starting the new site with just launched a new blog. Hilarious. Go there: Steve L Kneivel
- My roommate got a new wine key. That was the gist of our conversation this morning. I'm pretty sure he hates me.
- D comes tomorrow. Yayy!
- Cak—my friend who has serious issues with her sleezeball boyfriend—has two dates this week with people who are not said sleezeball boyfriend. Nevertheless, she'll be flying out to Houston to see her sleezeball boyfriend this weekend. One might argue here that she is, in fact, the sleezeball for dating other guys. Yeah, one might...
- My sister made me sign up for a MySpace account because she wanted to add me as a friend. You know, so that it would look like she actually has some. My other sister calls it a "MyGeek" account, yet is begging for my password so she can stalk people. She's a riot.
- My good friend and her boyfriend are moving into my building, to an apartment directly below me. This would be perfect if the whole boyfriend element of this fact was eliminated. Party? I doubt it.
- The receptionist where I work had this genius idea yesterday: She was going to buy a cot and put it under the table in the mail room. Then she was going to invest in a long table cloth so that we could all take turns sleeping on the cot under the table hidden by the table cloth. This idea must be adopted immediately.
As for now, I'm going to sleep at my desk. Have a good day all.
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