And I'm not effing talking about M. Night Shyamalan's new movie. I really wanted to use the real curse word, but this here is a family blog and I wouldn't dare curse or discuss naughty topics. Not at all.
I mentioned the other day that I just couldn't stay up as late as I used to and blamed my job. Some of my less knowledgeable friends claimed it's just because I'm getting old. They actually used the pronoun "we," but they meant me. Sure I'm getting old. I haven't hit 30 yet, but will in just under two years (screw you Heather, and if you didn't get the joke, you've never worked copydesk with me). But if you saw the photos of me swimming today and how fucking bald I looked (screw families) you'd think I was getting old too. I really can't go bald. I'm cool with going gray. That one post referencing it in a negative manner was really just my dealing with the shock of finding my first. I've even been showing off my one white hair, but I really don't have the head for baldness. It makes me sad and young babies die of crib death. That's right, the thought of my going bald is the cause for SIDS.
But I digress, like I always do. My inability to stay up during Noogfest had nothing to do with my age. One of the guys who kept sticking his drunken finger into my ear while I pretended to sleep was at least 15 years older than me. Of the other six people in the room at any time after I fell asleep the first time around only two are even close to being younger than me. One of the six is the mother of two and not one of those younger than me.
The only problem is that Noogfest was a week too early. Less than a week later here I am on a Wednesday night/Thursday morning and I'm wide awake at 2 a.m. watching Carson Daly while I type this, and I hate Carson Daly. I mean I hate the guy so much and so irrationally that if I were HIV positive, I would rape him just to give him AIDS. You think I'm kidding, but I may not be. I really dislike the guy.
The rest of the summer will continue this way (staying up late, not fantasizing about raping Carson Daly and giving him AIDS), until late July rolls around and I start trying to get to bed earlier so that I'm not entirely incoherent for the first week of school.
And now here's where I end my post with a tidy little circle kicker and switch to a DVRed episode of South Park to cleanse the nasty taste Mr. Daly has left in my mouth, except that I can't think of any tidy little circle kickers. Fuck.