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4 March 2015, 01:54

I’m fucking up. Can’t sleep. I’m wide awake.

This is a problem. I am a perpetual night owl and for the last little bit, I’ve been up almost all night puttering around. The dogs are always up with me. I don’t know why. And they make a lot of noise. They think its play time AND they make a lot of noise. My computer chair squeaks and it makes a lot of noise. They eat and slurp and shake and itch and it makes a lot of noise. The stampede outside to bark at nothing at four in the morning and THAT makes a lot of noise. I have one staring at me right now who wants her ball back because I took it away from her – she wanted to bounce it on the hardwood floors at 2:04 a.m. and that makes a lot of ECHOEY noise. She fucking grunting at me.

There needs to be quiet. Dougie is all asleep and has to wake up at 5:45 a.m. so we all need to be fucking quiet. DO YOU FUCKING HERE ME DOGS? QUIET!!! They are only quiet when they think its sleep time, and I swear to Zeus’s butthole, I TRIED TO SLEEP. I went to bed at 9 and woke back up at about 11 or 12. Maybe one. All I know, is that I woke up and stared into the dark, TRYING to get back to sleep. But I have non sequiturs and bizarre thoughts just racing through my head and they won’t stop. Not the kind that would warrant a call to the authorities, just random, insane person flotsam that won’t turn off. I think this is how people feel when they smoke a pound of crack.

I had promised Doug, I would sleep like a normal person. I tried. I REALLY tried. Normally, I only sleep 6 hours at a stretch anyway, and now, I’m zonking out cold for about 3 hours at a time… except this time, I can’t go back to sleep. I sat in the dark and poked at the dogs, holding there nose closed to see if they would breathe out their mouths, or put their paws on each other’s faces. Finally, the brown dog went into the living room to sleep and the white one wouldn’t wake up – he really sleeps like a log. Lots of times, I’ve stuffed things in Hurley’s lips and he won’t wake up – Skittles, socks, pennies…

I came in here. I guess to write. Although, what, I don’t know. It’s all just shooting around in my brain, non connected subjects and tangential meanderings on just dumb things. Like, my glasses. I have been through 5 pairs in the last 4 months. I break them and lose them. I have half broken ones that I tape to my face when I need to use a pair. And today, I felt like a old lady loser person standing at the reading glasses display picking out some glasses – and to top it all off, what I thought were 125s turned out to be 150s when I got to the checkout, assumably (is that a word) because I was too fucking blind to see where the 125s were hanging. Or maybe I was too dumb. Then I though, hey my eyes weren’t this bad when I started wearing these glasses that some retail eyeglass monkey at America’s Cheapest Glasses told me I needed to, so what if wearing these glasses are training my eyes to be bad? I think its all a conspiracy. The glass is some sort of alien technology that was originally intended to hinder and blind the human race, prepping them for the upcoming invasion, and instead Lenscrafter’s stole the evil glass to make faulty, vision ruining specs, insuring that people’s eyes will steadily become worse and worse and perpetuating the need for glasses. Although, wearing glasses does make reading possible again. Still, I hate contributing to the massive alien industrial eyewear conspiracy by buying them.

Now, I’m trying to scream at the dogs silently to shut the fuck up. Apparently, its roll around the floor and make loud thumping sounds time.

I’m not feeling sleepy. It might be the little 5 hour shot drinks, but I had that this morning. It’s basically 200mg of caffeine. That’s two cups of coffee I think. I’m just awake, and there is no sign of drowsiness. I use to stay awake at night when I was a kid, but that was because I had a bat shit nutty family and staying awake was a combination of hypervigilance and the whole me-likey-nighttime-cause-you-unhinged-people-have-shut-the-hell-up time. Early on, I learned that whole Dogs Are Better Than People thing, and I have no belief in that family bond thing. You should bond with people you like, and develop the ability to tolerate all others. Fuck that rule which says you got to spend quality time with people, WHO, if you didn’t share some sort of chromosomal tie or had the misfortune of a dumbfuck relative marrying them, you would pay upwards of 200 dollars to have them left on the side of the road in a neighboring state. I have always tried to stay the hell away from people that don’t add to my life and well being. Dougie and the dogs are my immediate family and a good portion of the people who I consider my extended family are not related to me and live out of state. Yeah. Don’t know what brought that about. Well. Yeah, I do. I think I’m hungry.

Dog is mad and humming at me. I think she’s eating the Christmas lights.

I had taken the Christmas lights to hang in here cause I think they are cool. It does NOT make me crazy that I want to hang Christmas lights in the computer room and have a four foot tree decorated by Happy Meal toys. It makes me whimsical. As far as I’m concerned, there are not enough whimsy filled doughnuts in the world. I am different. I’m not real girly, although if I was a size 8, I’d be wearing nicer clothes… I think. I want to change my answer. I’m not real girly-girly, but I am a girl. Some would have you think that I could be mistaken for a lesbian truck driver because I don’t wear the flowery tops, high heals and stripper makeup. Oh and I cuss a lot. And burp. And sound out an occasional booty-tooty. I like that. Booty Tooty. I just made that up. I need to tweet that, maybe it will become viral. But then I’d be known forever as the girl who booty-tooties. That’s how freeking social media is. It’s on there forever now, don’t cha know. That Internet Wayback machine has archived some of my more embarrassing writing efforts, and some prose that is wonderful but chronicle horrible events that I’d just soon forget. Fuck diamonds, its the internet that is forever. Thank the living purple hairy booger eaters that the internet wasn’t around when I was in my 20s, documenting the mishaps of very bad decision making. Tequila makes for a rotten performance enhancing drug. And it makes my pants fall off. Not for any sexual purposes, but just because, apparently, I don’t like pants when I’ve downed a bunch of tequila. Thank god I don’t do that anymore. The last drink I’ve had was a bass beer and it was so long ago, I can’t remember. Maybe the last couple of months?

I just don’t drink anymore. Not because of any intervention, or spiritual enlightening. It was because the pain in my head the morning after was intense, long lasting, debilitating and the only thing I remembered from the whole drinking event. Really. It was my brain now that said, “Remember that wonderful feeling of impending death and the taste of old burnt rubber and kitty litter in your mouth? You can have that again – go ahead, have a beer.” So, I pass on the beer most of the time. Because all I really get from it is the hangover now. That crippling, agonizing, pain with the knowledge that you smell horrible and can’t do anything about it, because you have rendered your body inoperable. It would be this sharp, piercing pain in the middle of your head, the inability to become and remain vertical and the feeling that you WANTED to vomit – not that you needed to, but WANTED to. Life has hit a low point when you feel that god would be in his heaven and all would be right with the world if you could just upchuck. And as a side benefit, the amount of stupidity originating from me has decreased by 90%.

I think tomorrow, I’m going to down some Benadryl to knock me the fuck out.

But I’m a little excited about tomorrow. It says its going to be 81 degrees. 8-hellagood-1 degrees. Warm and sunshiney. I love me some sunshine… and heat. Nothing beats heat. I bought a bunch of cleaning supplies and I’m going to open the doors and let the sunshine in. WHAT THE BLUE FUCK? I’m actually looking forward to cleaning. Jesus. No. Doug once said in reply to my “WHY THE FUCK CAN’T YOU CLEAN A LITTLE?”, “Cleaning is your thing, you enjoy it.” NO NO NO. Let me explain this before someone has me committed or buys me a subscription to Good Housekeeping. I am a MONDO-UBER control freak. I do things that I can control to help alleviate the stress of not being able to get a handle on other shit I can’t. NO JOB. NO MONEY. NO NEW IMAC. All this equals to “Let’s get skinny” and “Let’s clean up this pig sty.” This is one of the only good things I got from my mother. When freaking the fuck out, it’s best to tidy. I don’t know why I channel all the pent up stress energy into the exercise and cleaning but I do. Usually most people would booze it up, but I was never one to drink to assuage worries or make myself feel better. I drank to get stupid, and subsequently, do stupid things. I never got into drugs either – not because I wouldn’t just enjoy the shit out of crystal meth (I probably wouldn’t. It doesn’t seem to make people more enjoyable to be around and you don’t get to keep your teeth) – drugs usually don’t let you keep control of your mind and I have my lid tightly screwed on by choice. Alcohol just makes me more of an asshole than I already am, and takes away the gatekeeper that makes me tolerable to society. It doesn’t change me into some psychotic of which I believe drugs will. Plus, if you extrapolate the effect drugs would have on me by the way over-the-counter pills do, then I think monstrously detrimental might be an apt description of what a real drug would be. If I take ONE Actifed (back when they made it), I took it for allergies or sinus stuffiness and it would knock me for a loop. I would get HHHIIII-eeeeee. I would be loopy, slurry and see trails, but fuck if I couldn’t breathe again. And then I’d fall into a 12 hour deep sleep. That was my dilemma. I could take the pill and just Timothy-Leary the rest of the day but breathe like a normal person, or just be stuffy, miserable and cogent. So, if a little white Actifed could do that to me, imagine something more powerful… I’d be hallucinating Jesus and Hitler selling car stereos out the back of the Partridge family school bus and thinking I can control dogs and small children with my mind. Or something REALLY insane.

Benadryl will put me to sleep the whole night and make me all lethargic for the next day, but I HAVE to get my sleepies all fixed, so I’m going have to take two and hope for the best tomorrow. Can’t take one now, I’d be in a coma all day.

See, how I brought that all around? And I didn’t even plan it.