Tonite’s installment of, I Can’t Sleep, has been brought to you by the makers of Naturally More Peanut Butter.  Naturally More Peanut Butter:  Because, naturally, I need more peanut butter than the average binge eater.

I have a lot on my mind.  None of it connects.  All of it keeps whizzing around; disjointed, swarming, stinging my brain.

We love SpongeBob Squarepants in this household.  The Husband and The Daughter can quote or name an episode within the first 30 seconds of a show.  Like Seinfeld, SpongeBob wisdom can be applied to any moment of any day.  One SpongeBob movie features a character named Lord Royal Highness (LRH for short).  I shall now refer to The Daughter as Lady Royal Highness (also LRH for short).  Given her high and mighty attitude and general carriage, it just seems so fitting.

While reviewing LRH’s school work, tonite, I noticed a worksheet directing her to think of a word that starts with the letter ‘G’ and draw a picture of that word.  She drew a picture of Gary the Snail (for you non-SpongeBob aficionados, Gary is SpongeBob’s pet snail who meows like a cat).  That girl makes me beam with pride.  Commoners may draw a ‘girl’ or a ‘gun’… but Gary?  Now that’s thinking outside of the box, baby.  Or that’s Nickelodeon brainwashing.  Whatever.  I’m keeping it for her 1^st grade scrapbook.

I should change the load of laundry.  Damn laundry.  Every other week, I swear I will NOT let it pile up like that, again.  Every other week, I spot the faces of past presidents in mountains of sweaty workout gear and marker-stained unicorn t-shirts.  You know, it really pisses me off when a pillow case or t-shirt gets all caught up in a corner of the fitted sheet while in the dryer.  Damn rogue garment always pops out all balled up, wrinkly, and more-than-damp.  What the hell am I supposed to do with that crumpled abomination?  Iron it?  Put it back in the dryer?  Re-wash it?  Why does it mock me?  WHY?

Apparently, freelance writers have to have skillz and blogging about tampon towers and jeggings doesn’t cut it.  Potential employers request writing samples.  This is a bit of an issue for me.  My (paying) clients contract me to design, launch, analyze, and deliver confidential and proprietary industry studies.  I can’t submit those studies or white papers as samples.  When I consider applying for the writing gigs, the smartass part of my brain (which, coincidentally, is my entire brain) wants to tell them, “I am submitting a well-written, dare I say – dazzling – proposal and resume.  Dude!  If you can’t see that this is an example of stellar writing skillz, then I can’t help you!”  But instead, I sideline it till I have time to write faux samples.  They’re still sidelined.

I ride on the coattails of other people’s success.  I’m too lazy to be my own success.

I often talk out of both sides of my mouth.  When I’m sleeping (not a current affliction, of course) I catch myself drooling from both sides of my mouth.  Gross.  But then I flip the pillow and no one has to know.  Until now, that is.  Dammit!

I’m addicted to Facebook and I will make no effort to change that.  I like to keep up with my peeps and have pseudo convos with them.  I feel closer to the people I grew up with – hundreds of miles away – than I ever did when we lived in each other’s back yards (and taunted each other in school… you know who you are!).  I laugh more because of Facebook.  I have more moments of self-realization, self-actualization, and self-gratification because of Facebook (get your heads outta the sewer!  Not THAT kind of self-gratification).  Facebook is not the enemy.  Lack of self-discipline is the enemy.  But not my enemy.  I’ve friended lack of self-discipline.

Mozart wrote the nursery rhyme, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” at the age of 5.  Show-off, punk kid.  I bet he didn’t have a lot of friends.  Pearls melt in vinegar.  Who the hell is storing their pearls in a jar of vinegar?  They don’t deserve to own pearls if they’re that stupid!  Coca-Cola was originally green.  Good thing they changed that cuz diarrhea-brown is WAY more palatable.  In the 1980s, American migraines increased by 60%.  Of course they did.  That’s when I hit puberty.  Count the number of cricket chirps in a 15-second period, add 37 to the total, and the result will be very close to the actual outdoor Fahrenheit temperature.  How socially inept does one have to be to even want to figure out that equation, much less test it?  The term ‘testify’ originates from men in the Roman court swearing to a statement made by swearing on their testicles.  I suspect our court system would be much less smarmy and way more effective if we brought this one back.

A pig’s orgasm lasts for 30 minutes.

I need a moment to ruminate that…

-B(Sting)