I don't know officer, We just FOUND him like this!

There I was, dead to the world, with visions of sugar-plums (or pornstars) dancing in my head. It wasn't even 6:30 AM yet and I was being watched, ney PHOTOGRAPHED!!! I look like a corpse! My face is white and while I sleep, my double chin becomes really pronounced. I have a five o'clock shadow going on and some red thing on my nose. Instead of just deleting the photo and saying "thank god nobody saw that" I decided to share, what I look like in the morning, TO THE WORLD!!!

I have various aches and pains lately, not merely from karate class, but from a short-lived career as a stuntman that I decided to embark on Monday. My friend/coworker drives a work truck, I saw him flying down the street like a mad-man (that's his M.O.). He saw me and sped up the truck. He aimed my way and I saw the twinkle in his eye that said "This guy is going to be turned in to a flesh frappacino if it's the last thing I do!"

So, to play along with this psychotic little sherade, I dove out of the way of the truck. This would've been fine, had I been able to get my feet back on the ground before the rest of me decided to come crashing down. EVEN THAT, would've been ok if I had hit the plush green grass a foot to the left or the right of the CEMENT walkway that I landed on elbow-first. My friend/coworker didn't know whether to call an ambulance or piss himself while giggling like a giddy Swedish schoolgirl: " he's funny Yah??" Meanwhile, I'm lying on the ground somewhere between laughter and sobs. There were people all over the place (because this happened on Main St.) looking at me like "Is he hurt?" and then later looking at me like " Oh no, he's just a jack ass."

So, yeah, my left elbow is all scraped up and so is my right palm. I broke my work phone in pieces from the fall and I have a big bruise on my left leg from where that happened. So, it was a pretty mild Monday in general.

It's hard to believe it's Thursday again. This week flew by, not because it was good, more because horrifically stressful. This doesn't make any sense. Meanwhile, back in the halls of justice (thank you D). I find myself in a basement with yet another shirt stained by the oil from a 6-in-1 hero that I had for lunch. The basement is cold and dusty. I hear the cars rumbling down my street and I fight the urge to sleep instead of actually working. My boss is "at home, drawing pictures of mountain tops, with him on top. Lemon yellow sun (Pearl Jam)", out sick, so I can relax a little more than usual. But still the phone rings, the flourescent lights suck (sucksucksuck) the life out of me, and with each passing day, I become less and less of a man. One day, I fear, I will grow wiskers and lose my eyesight. I'm affraid that I'll grow my fingernails super long and walk around on all fours. When I finally borough my way out into the sun, I'll discover that I am really a mole. How does a mole have self respect? I don't even think that moles can SPELL self-respect. Anyway, I'm going to claw my way out for the day. I'm done ranting in my dusty habitat.