Snooze Addicts

Addiction is when you keep doing something even though it makes you feel like shit. Yeah, that's Websters, wanna fight about it?

So how is the snooze button a good thing? I bet the same guy who invented 'snooze' invented light beer, light cigarettes and diet Coke. And he invented it for addictive personalities like mine who wanted to do something without doing it because it feels so good even though it is so bad for you. He probably justified it by saying, "Look at my new invention! It will give you a few extra minutes of time to relax before getting out of bed!" This is a little like saying Joe Camel commercials were directed at adults. Seriously, what marginally sentient adult human being would think a fat cartoon camel is cool and more to the point, what child wouldn't? So the counterargument, that snooze is a pleasant relaxing cycle, is ridiculous. If I am asleep, get woken up by a buzzer and then lay back down, I won't relax... I'll sleep. For nine minutes until my ears, nay, my soul is raped awake again! Snooze = evil invention for addictive people.

Friends! Brothers! Nappers! We don't need the snooze button! It's not real sleep! If you're going to sleep until 7:48, then set your alarm for 7:48!

Goal: for the rest of the alarm-puked week, I will get up as soon as my alarm goes off. I will walk around my apartment naked (boner, optional) until I feel it's safe to stop moving. Safe meaning I won't fall back asleep leaning on the kitchen counter (done that), tying my shoes (done that) or sitting on the toilet (definitely done that).

You know, there's a huge whole in this rant. If the snooze-inventor didn't invent the feature for our benefit, then why did he invent it? Send guesses to jamesguimaraes@me.com. Most creative answer will win an alarm clock. And if you think I'm kidding, why not submit an answer to try me out? Remember: the snooze button is not our friend. It is our enemy. And your task is to come up with the purpose behind its inception.

Pins and Needles or Panic Attacks

"Goodmorning!"  That's what I want to exclaim to the world.  Or at least to the other people in my office.  But I don't think I can look anyone in the eye.  Because I fell on my face last night walking from the bathroom to the bedroom.  Because my legs were paralyzed.  Because I was sick.  And I fell asleep on the toilet.

Buffalo chicken is delicious.  So is Chinese food.  Which one provided the Ides of March in May last night?  Probably both.

After a wonderful dinner with sister and mom, I took a cab home, unpacked from a fantastic weekend (see, "Three from Dudley"), and got into bed before eleven.  At twelve fifteen, midst a nightmere of epic proportions involving kids from middle school, kids from summercamp and kids from France, I woke up thinking my stomach was tearing itself in two.  So I went into the bathroom and waited for the inevitable.  I'll spare you the details but after it was over, I was completely exhausted from the experience.  I closed the toilet seat and sat on it with my head in my hands and my elbows on my knees -- remaining in the bathroom just in case I felt ill again.  Sometime later, I stood up and walked to my bedroom.

Then my legs froze up.  It felt like there was sand in my veins and every muscle twitch sent bone zapping tingles through my body.  "What the hell is this?" I thought.  Then I looked at my clock.  It was 1:30 am.  I had been asleep in the bathroom for over an hour cutting off all circulation to my legs the entire time.  Shit shit shit.  Not knowing quite what to do, I decided I may as well let myself fall over and crawl into bed.

Some people have dreams where they're naked at work.  Others have dreams they never graduated College.  I don't have those dreams but I do fall asleep in the bathroom and crawl around in the middle of the night.