INSOMNIA....

Cue the dramatic music, please...thanks.

The word itself looks kind of malevolent, kind of fucked-up. It looks like Creeping Death (Thanks, Metallica! :-)) Like you open the fridge for a late-late-late night snack and, when the door swings silently shut, there is Insomnia, sildling from the shadows like an inky ink...blob. And Insomnia does silently bwhahahaha as it props open one's eyelids with toothpicks. (Thanks, Stanley Kubrick! :-))

It brings chills to my sleeping body. Wait, that's right. I'm wide-ass awake. (<--"Wide-ass" awake? Not a pretty picture, to say the least.)

From what I've heard and read, when one suffers from insomnia, one should not lie in one's bed and toss and turn and wait for the god Narcos to get his pickled ass in gear. Rather, one should rise from one's bed, where the bugs seem to be crawling (Thanks, Louie! :-)) and do something, anything, rather than focus on the elusively-prancing, devilish Shut-eye.

Like pop a sleeping pill. Nytol. I did. But, counteracting said "Night-All" are the four cups of java that I injested after the hour of 11:00PM. I've read somewhere that one cup of joe is equal, in caffeine, to six cups of cola. Lemme do the math. Shit, I only have twenty fingers and toes. I throw my earlobes and my testicles in there, too, then. Yep, the math all...uh...adds up: 24 cups of soda pop after 11:00PM.

Goofy says to a stupider animated character--like Britney Spears, say--"Wah, wah that doan seem to make too much sense-like. Wah."

Goofy? We're in agreeance. (Thanks, Fred Durst! :-))

Is their anything more painful than waiting for a sleeping pill to counteract an ergregious amount of late-night coffee? (Don't answer that, Mister Dahmer. *Please* don't answer that!)

*Yawn*

Sike! Gotcha!

Louie has no such problems. Here. I'll take his picture, real quick-like...it's at the top of the page. I'll wait whilst you scroll up.

[tapsfootimpatiently]

Back? Good. What were we talking about? Oh. Oh yeah. The dark and shadowed beast the size of a mountain with the head the size of an apple: Insomnia. Maybe if I write the word enough times, in varying styles and schemes, I'll bore *myself* to sleep. Here goes:

Insomnia insomniad, "Insomnia! Insomnia insomniating insomnia's insomnia!"

Yes. I am, indeed, quite mad. Meet my roommates (besides the flea-riddled Lou-dog): the Mad Hatter, Tweedle-Dee, his brother Tweedle-Dum, Woody Woodpecker, Marmaduke, Bugs Bunny, Donald Duck Daffy Duck and Scrooge McDuck, Alvin and Simon and Theodore and the non-talkative chipmunks from Walt Disney (?), the buzzards who just keep asking each other "I dunno, whut di ye wunt ti do?", that pompous tiger Prince from Disney's "Robin Hood," and Roger Rabbit.

And, of course, Ren and Stimpy. Shit.

*You* try getting to sleep with all that going on!

Nyt All. *Snore*