It’s late. I want to sleep. My brain, however, appears to have another plan for me. Why the hell does it have to work that way? All fucking day long, not one coherent thought, but the minute the sun goes down and it’s time to lay my head on a pillow, my mind has LOTS to say.
I think that if this doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to take a page from Homer Simpson’s book and. Poke. My. Brain. With. A. Q-Tip.
That’s sure to teach it a lesson.
The worst part?? They’re not brilliant thoughts. You’re reading them now. You know… they are just thoughts. Stupid thoughts. Thoughts that somehow coincide with a cartoon character created to showcase human stupidity at its best.
I shan’t wait by the phone for that call from Mensa then…
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- Dahlia Janey
- A mother and proud owner of a cat, I pride myself on my ability to scream over my child. I lost my ability to ambulate about a year ago, and often find myself stuck in chairs until someone comes home to rescue me. My saving grace in these moments is Heather Armstrong, proud owner and creator of www.dooce.com . Though we have never met, Heather continues to keep me amused with her posts. My cat is a big fan of Heather because her site saves Him from being the sole source of my amusement during the day. (He hates it when I make him juggle and tap-dance...) My great aspiration in life is to find a production company that desperately needs an immobile, cranky old bitch to play a part in an Academy Award winning movie. Barring that, I will settle for being able to have sex one more time before I die. My genitals have forgotten their purpose in life. Yesterday, my vagina informed me firmly that it wants to be emancipated.
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