Sleep is just a state of mind

Ever have those nights where you lay in bed for an hour, eyes closed, wrapped up in your blanket and instead of sleep you're thinking crazy thoughts? Thoughts about zombies, petticoats, hotel rooms, Road trips, candy, Cheesecake and more zombies?

This is why my brain is like. I lay down and my train of thought makes no sense. None. Not to me, not to anyone else.

"Hmm, I wonder if I'd be smited if I walked into a church, dropped trou and yelled 'Covet this, bitches!' it seems like something one would be smited for. is smited a word? it has to be, what would the past tense of smite be? I smite, he smites, she smited. Right? Of course I'm right, it's grammar. But then again the to's still confuse me. and apostrophes. I wonder how you say apostrophe in German. I wonder if it's as cool of a word as exclamation point is."

Oh, but this is just the beginning of the insanity that happens in my head. I made a list, of things to do in England. While trying to sleep. I will now share.

1.) Buy lots and lots of petticoats and wander around that area of really old buildings in the city pretending I'm in a historical romance novel. (Note to self: Try to swoon at least once.)
2.) Convince the English that is the THHHHHHAMES because TH makes a THHHHH sound.
3.) In regards to number one, get really drunk and go to a public place and slap a man while insisting he "compromised me" and then run away. Might be difficult in petticoats. Will have to practice.

There was more, but I can't remember it now. Because I'm insane. That's pretty much the basics of the list though, crazy shit that makes little to no sense. Love it. But the rambling of the brain, it needs to stop. I'll be having a lovely thought about cheesecake or some crazy meal I tried cooking and BAM APARTMENT ON FIRE.

WTF. I WAS BOILING WATER. HOW THE HELL ARE YOU ON FIRE, WATER?!

Seriously guys, the water was on fire. Talk about a mind fuck.

"Shit, shit, waters on fire. Water is on fire. OPEN.YOUR.EYES. WOMAN. Oh. Ok. I'm awake. I'm completely awake. In america, there is no water on fire. Right? Right. Wtf, cat, shut up. Oh thats not the cat, thats my stomach. Mmm stomach. Mmm stomach? Oh Ok, now we're digesting ourselves, thats cool. Thanks for the memo nervous system, could have warned me a bit earlier that I was hungry. Like before I laid down to sleep. Although I'm failing. You know what else I'll fail at? Probably cleaning out my car, but if my car was chitty chitty bang bang I could just fly that sucker above the dump, twist it sideways and let all the crap in it fall to the ground. Now that would be pretty fucking sweet. I wonder if an empty diet coke can could kill someone if dropped from high enough. I wonder where the city dump is in relation to this house. Hmm. "

Now I know this is all nerves. I'm stressed, I'm excited, I'm nervous. I can't wait, I'm thrilled, I'm terrified. etc etc. But seriously, do I have to be fucking exhausted to sleep at night? Because this whole "sleeping when I'm on the verge of death" thing isn't cutting it. I'm tired, I need sleep. But apparently my brain would rather have me mentally wander around a (No lie) department store in my mind yelling at the Make up counter lady because I can't return the makeup I bought because I lost my debit card.

Yeah, I'm pretty fucked up. Oh and then I laid there thinking about mac n' cheese for a while pondering the perfect bachemel sauce. And what kind of cheese would make the perfect grilled cheese. And then cheetos, and how the flamin' hot ones are disgusting. And then I laid there going over my nicknames and finally after I started thinking about smurfs and what would happen if a group of smurfs came upon a midget, I got up and declared myself a failure at sleep.

So I'm awake. At 6:30 am because I, yet again, can not shut my fucking brain up. And this, people, is why I drink until I'm too drunk to have a conscious thought. Because if I didn't, I'd never get any fucking sleep.

Ps. Kidding about the drinking thing.
pps. Where does one pick up petticoats?
ppps. ZOMBIES COVERED IN FLAMING WATER IS A HORRIFYING THOUGHT. K?

Avoidence: Is it a noun? A verb? An adjective?

Apparently, it's "Avoidance" so I guess that means Avoidence is nothing. A normal person would correct their mistake and pretend nothing had happened. I on the other hand, think outside the box and like to appear human from time to time. Keeps the readers on a level where they can sort of relate to me, but still find me stunningly brilliant and witty.

I'm in one of my rare moods where I want to write. I need to write. My fingers, at this point, can not move fast enough to get every thought out of my head and into this 600X400 text box. There are mistakes, but they can be deleted and rewritten to suit my needs, desires and aspirations for this blog entry. Which I guess makes the whole typo in the title, ironic.

I went to the doctor today. After a day of limping, wincing and occasionally almost falling to the ground because my knee gave out, I sucked up my fear, pride and Super-Hero psyche and got in my car. Upon arriving at the Centegra Health Center, I got out of my car and promptly fell against it as pain racked over my leg. So as I flicked my cigarette across the way, I limped into the building with my shoulders back and my jaw set.

I thought I was going to the second floor. Thankfully Ugly woman was in the elevator with me, and informed me imediate care was on the third floor. So I went there instead.
After I was checked in I sat for a bit, and then proceeded to tell my entire life story to the RN who's name I can't remember and it upsets me. (She was lovely, I must admit.) I got my flu shot, to shut my mother up about it, and even recieved a HOT PINK band-aid to cover my "Battle wound" (I hate shots with a passion. Draw my blood all you like, but stay the hell away from me with shots, you commie bastards!)

This rather large man comes in and instantly I think of the guy from "Malcom in the Middle", the fat one with dark hair who worked with the mom. I'm put at ease. For once a doctor actually looks at my problem and spends time trying to figure out what hurts where, and how much pressure etc etc. X-Rays are ordered. I put my pants back on and the nice man tips me. (kidding about the tip. Although that would have been nice. Unless it was a "You're fat, lose weight." Tip that the other doctor gave me. (Omg, Seriously? I'm fat? I had no Idea!) So no, I didn't profit tonight. Sorry Pimp FrenchRoll.)

I digress, I go and get my knee X-Rayed and it turns out that I have torn nothing. Nothing is broken or out of place. I do have arthritis, (IN YOUR FACE CRONIN! (The Doctor at Caring Family who said I was fat and just needed to lose weight to make ONE KNEE stop hurting.)) but not enough for it to be causing all of my problems. He prescribes an anti-inflammatory medicine for me. And then I ask for the good stuff, drugs for the pain. He was rather understanding about it, and I got 20 Darvocet. I must say, these things are lovely. For the first time in days I remember what it feels like to take a step and not wonder if my legs going to give (Mainly because I'm so high I could give two shits!) and theres no wincing as I walk up and down stairs. I love clouding the pain, maybe thats why I drink. (No worries Sis, I don't drink and pop prescribed pills. Uppers don't need downers, yo! Drug Addict 101. :p )

That happens to be the most exciting part of my day. Unless you count me discussing with myself the prices of tampons and which box to get, but even that was boring.

OH. I KNOW WHAT I DID.

I dissected a fetal pig. We named it Sue, for Suey, and then we quickly cut her open. We have played with a sheep's heart, brain and eyeball. And for the first two I thought, and so did my lab partner, Amy, that I was going to vomit everywhere. I took numerous breaks outside to have a cigarette in a vain attempt to get the smell of whatever it was out of my nose.

Well not today, folks, not today. Today I picked up the scalpel and cut the pig a grin that "The Joker" would be proud of. I fondled it's trachea. I prodded at it's liver and kidneys. I also picked up it's hind legs and made it dance as I sang a song. "Do the humpty hump, yea do the humpty hump!"

My teacher came up behind me and asked what I was doing. "The tootsie roll!" I responded with a dead serious face. (The same serious face I had when I announced to the class that afterwards I was going to get the "Snip Snip")

So that was my day in a nutshell. I'm sure more happened, but in order to educate the masses I went a Youtube'n looking for a "Tootsie Roll" video and ended up with this and then this one, which reminds me of the girl I never wanted to be in high-school. Thankfully I never succumbed to the peer pressure that requires you to be a retarded bimbo.

You're welcome.