Punch Drunk

I had to be to a work thing by 7 a.m. this morning, which meant a 5:30 a.m. wake up call, WHICH, as you can likely imagine, made for an early bedtime. And you know how stressful that is, because all you can think about is that OMG I am going to oversleep and the majority of the evening is spent tossing and turning and checking the clock, because is it 5:30 yet? IS IT IS IT HUH HUH HUH?

So you can imagine how pleased I was, in theory, when I crashed out at 10 p.m., completely out cold with nary a thought to the Celtics game or the Michigan primary. I was just out! Asleep! And then it happened …

CHARMCH.

CHARMCH.

MONCH MONCH MONCH MONCH

CHARMCH.

::SMACK!::

**rustle rustle rustle**

MONCH.

Someone, and that someone would be my HUSBAND, thought that eating Cheez-It Party Mix in bed would be the PERFECT way to while away a few late-night hours while shaking the bed with laughter at what I can only imagine was The Daily Show. MONCH MONCH MONCH went his lips, including a light little crunch as he relished each little garlic puff (THE GARLIC PUFF, JESUS).

And with that, I was up and then I was hot! SO HOT! And I ripped my pants off like Abigail Breslin in Little Miss Sunshine because apparently the seams, they had had enough, and I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but I must be wearing pants when I sleep, which meant I had to dig up a new pair of pants from the laundry to have on call for when this ridiculous pantless heat wave passed. And I believe it was at that point that Adam lost it and was in absolute hysterics, because all he could think about was that Family Guy episode where Peter exposes Anne Frank to the Nazis with an ill-chosen crunch of a Lay’s salt ‘n vinegar potato chip.

And at this point, it’s midnight, my legs are clammy and naked (PANTLESS SLEEP NO NO) and we were both nearly wetting our pants, we were laughing so hard, because have you seen that episode? The potato chip! THE PARTY MIX! OMG THE EFFING GARLIC PUFFS.

Is anyone still with me at this point?

Anyway. I promised myself that I would, under no circumstances, EVER watch American Idol again EVER EVER EVER and yet when I made that promise, there was no writer’s strike on the horizon. Ergo, here I am, suffering through another season and wondering why Randy Jackson continues to change up his look, when none of them are working. Dude, I kept wanting to say JOHNSON, and it would be much, much better if the Big Unit were judging because although he’d be a clueless douchebag, he’d be spitting into a cup, which would be a welcome distraction from the vapidity that emanates from the group at every turn. Simon, he could use a new schtick and the whole thing is so old! So old! And yet, so compelling.

And all this being said, despite working and American Idol and lack of sleep, I have been in an extraordinarily good mood lately, so please, don’t let my pantless Cheez-It or sticky shower bum lead you astray. Whoo to the Cheez-It hoo. I’d also like to add for no other reason than I can, that I have begun snorting when I laugh too hard, and if that‘s not the most attractive habit to pick up, I really don’t know what is.

With that, I’ve got a Democratic debate TiVo’d with my boyfriends Tim Russert and Brian Williams and I’m pretty darn excited. Is it … well, is it THAT nerdy that we have a TiVo wish list set up to look for anything with “debate” in it?

Happy Wednesday!

*Gene Loves Jezebel. Because sometimes I’m stuck in 1980. Also! Random aside: Internet is still friggin’ spotty, so if I owe you an e-mail, it’s not just because I suck, it’s because I have like three whole seconds before it decides to take a big ole dump. I wrote this in Word, not that anyone is BURNING to hear from me.

19 comments January 15th, 2008