I Close My Eyes and Dream that I'm Awake

I don’t understand how people can blog when they can’t sleep. Especially when they put it as their status on face book. “Tits McGee is wide awake and doesn’t know why.” 4:28 am. Seventeen insomniacs like this.

I definitely do NOT have that problem. In fact, I’m falling asleep as I write this, and it‘s five in the afternoon. I apparently utilize blogging as a lullaby. But for the sake of pre-nocturnal amusement and my defiance towards these freaky-deaky Narcoleptic tendencies, I’m going to plunge through this.

So the rain has given me two reasons to pronounce yesterday and today official FML days, as yesterday I was supposed to go running con mi primo and today I was going to lay out at the pool. So now I’m stuck being fat and pasty. FML. And the rain.

I finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns today, and I finished The Other Boleyn Girl about a week ago. I need to stop reading history-based novels involving the beheading of the female protagonist. What’s sad is that Anne Boleyn and Mariam were the most opposite of women, yet they both ended with the same fate, thanks to the imbecilic men.

Blah, blah, blah….

I think the erratic chaos that is my life is becoming monotonous. That’s really bad, if that’s the case. Today I got to work and I walked through the hall and out the backdoor, and was greeted with the sight of one of my coworkers laying hands on another coworker, praying over her, holding a broom in her other hand; both were standing in a pile of sand. I yawned, scratched my stomach, and wondered how I would look with shorter bangs.

Twice I was beckoned by different people to supervise their job because they had explosive diarrhea. Ho-hum.

I find myself saying incredibly vile sentences like, “Why is Chef naked and twisted around the faucet?” and, “What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you eat the headless cats?” and the only thing that gives me any inkling that what I said is abnormal is the fact that some of those words are difficult to pronounce next to each other, considering I’m probably the first human being ever to make those concoctions. Try it. Say the Chef sentence and tell me it’s not hard to say. See? It just doesn’t roll off the tongue smoothly.

I would like to believe that I’m not becoming accustomed to and bored with my crazy life; I like to think it’s the Narcolepsy. Even though I’m not even Narcoleptic. I’m not in denial, either it’s just that I’m ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……………..