superflea

Can't sleep. Fuck.

The gf's theory is that I may have disruptive sleep apnea, but we're really not sure. (As far as I'm concerned, Apnea could disrupt my sleep any old time she wanted!) I'm due for a physical, so I'll bring it up to my MD. Every once in a while - and far more often than I'd like, I assure you - I wind up waking up positively drenched in sweat. I can understand the fun in getting all sweaty before sleeping, but it's considerably less fun when done in the other order, I assure you. It's been a weird day for sleep, due in no small part to my Thursday out drinking with the lads.

Here's what I've been able to piece together, and I need to preface this with the fact that I'm a lightweight. One whiff of the barmaid's apron and I'm three sheets to the wind:

Heineken
First round of Jag
Heineken
Second round of Jag
Heineken
Round of Irish Car Bombs
there may have been another Heineken here
Some shot that I think tasted like Apple
Heineken
A round of the fabled Nut n' Honey
Heineken

I don't know how the fuck I'm still alive. Apparantly, one of the guys I work with licked my freshly shaven head. I think I'll be thankful for some of the gaping holes in the evening. I staggered home and can recall fragments of a chat with photogrrl. My main impressions were that I was amazed I could type, and that I was clearly "prize fighter drunk". I'd like to claim the credit for that term, but my brother came up with it. It means it was astonishing that I didn't fall over.

So it was a very late night, and an early morning that did not start well. I wasn't in full-on hangover territory, but my insides were expressing in no uncertain terms that they were displeased. I did make it in to work (to photogrrl's complete astonishment, so I really will have to ask just how bad I was in that chat).

I came home tonight feeling fine and promptly passed out completely in front of the TV. I think I woke up around ten, and have made a couple of attempts to fall asleep with the gf, but I'm wired right now. Sometimes I think she looks so peaceful in her sleep just to spite me.

I have sad Mike Doughty music stuck in my head. Some of the songs are so melancholy that they can make you sad even if you're having an otherwise fine day. He casts observations that in the hands of a lesser singer would seem melodramatic, but his earnest delivery makes "I resent the way you make me like myself" and "My name to you is just another word" positively profound. "No Peace Los Angeles" is such an arrestingly mournful song that I'm almost angry at it for being so good.

I need to balance this out with some Pop. A little Happy Mondays should do the trick.

I've got a bachelor party to go to tonight. You can pretty much imagine where we're going to wind up. If I'm not back by Sunday, send stacks of twenties! What are you crazy kids up to this weekend?