Ghetto Musick

Apparently my body has become used to getting up at a later hour, so much so, in fact, that I now feel pretty shitty sitting at work at 8am (which in my mind is pretty sad and pathetic). Last week, I chalked this up to being hungover for at least two of the weekdays, but today has provided evidence against that theory. This is especially disheartening since I used to get up at 6am everyday and averaged about 3-4 hours of sleep a night. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. In other news, after tomorrow night's episode of House, it will be Welcome to the Dullhouse (ain't I clever?) in terms of network television viewing. Sigh.

I think I need a Great Gazoo of my own, or some other person/creature to stay on my shoulder (you know, something to light up the path that I walk and say everything when I talk) since my perception of the world is so often so terribly skewed. And said shoulder-inhabitant can let me know when I've drifted over the line of rational thought and periodically remind me that everything's going to be alright and that everyone doesn't hate me. Maybe this will be accomplished after my appointment with health services next Monday.

final thoughts: woot for purple slushies at Sidetrack, boo for being tired while driving, woot for conversations about music and advertising with gay guys that look like Ben Gibbard, and woot for conversations with an interesting person that last until five in the morning.