|Cena: not really sure about any of it.|
|Sunset before dinner|
|Mama and baby|
|Happy birthday Thao and Sarah!|
|Sleez is confused|
I am too irate right now to talk about anything. Tyler and Shamar's terribly styled and belligerently conspicuous sloppy business plan has me so flustered I can hardly type. Check back with you later, Places.
Okay, I'm back, well-fed (that's turned into a very relative term these days) and ready to roll. Grace has asked that I spice up her blog, bland with factual information and ill-informed stories, with some of the salt 'n peppa of my mind. Tonight, I would like to share some of my most recent thoughts about a topic so familiar to us, so common and so incredibly overlooked, that it has hardly garnered any attention, at least of the proper variety, that it deserves. What is this topic, you may be asking? Well let me tell you, sleep. As I walked into the fungalow the other night and cast my eyes upon my ever-sleepy roomie, Leah, with her unconscious body and limbs strewn under the covers of her bed like a mosquito on a windshield after a dirtily battled road race, I began to ponder, "Why?". The idea of millions of people laying unconscious, tucked under a blanket, in a bed for 4-10 hours, all at for about the same time period is a stranger concept than Dr. Mata as a child. An entire time zone of people is completely defenseless, close-eyed and living only in their dreams every single night at the same time as millions of other people. As a society that values individualism at such a high esteem it seems almost backwards to look down upon those who choose not to partake in this unified activity of oddity. So here I stand, an advocate for those who have been chastised and criticized for their uncouth nocturnal lifestyle, sharing their waking hours with meth addicts, 4chan users, recently broken-up-with 16 year olds, owls and eBay sellers of smuggled tucans and three-toed sloths. I am a defender of those too tired to defend themselves, a fighter of the rights for those awake at all the wrong hours to throw a verbal punch for themselves, and Che Guevera of the free thinkers of the dream world. In honor of my quest for answers, Grace has so graciously chosen a photo of me scaring the bejeezus out of Leah from where else? My bed.
|Hang the heck out|