now I (want to) lay me down to sleep.

Fine. Waking up at 4:30 a.m. so I could go to a 5:15 jazzercise class was totally my fault.

But I’m just cranky enough to not give a crap about semantics like that.

I’m so tired that I’m literally getting angry at my cell phone like it’s a human being with an ability to make me mad on purpose. All “Why do you always go so slow when I need navigation? You KNOW I hate that. I swear to outlets that you do this crap just to annoy me.”

And if we’re being honest here, I slept until noon yesterday. Then, I watched 45 minutes of TNT on TV, met an old friend for lunch (late dinner), watched the Bears game through three interceptions, stopped being a Bears fan until Aug. 2010, and then went back to bed.

I was tried then too.

Blame it on a work schedule that jacks up my sleep patterns like techno music from a gay bar in the late 90s. And my desire to lose 24 more stupid pounds, which really just means not eating and working out like, well techno music from that same gay bar. And me volunteering for things like homeless shelters and youth groups. Neither of those really help the sleep-thing either, if, well, like I said, we’re being honest here.

So, when the stupid boy from the West coast called tonight, someone should have grabbed the phone from my cold, pale fingers and explained that he was, in fact, walking into crazy crystal-land, with a little Friday the 13th on the side.

I mean, he doesn’t call in like 11 months and then expects to be all “hey. what’s up? how are you.”

NOT gonna happen.

Didn’t happen.

Rather, I explained to him that this is not an acceptable way to call up random girls. And that maybe he should evaluate his stupid life and when he’s got his crap together THEN, he should call.

And I got off the phone.

The “I’m so tired I could fall asleep in the check-out line” thing is just semantics though.

He deserved it regardless.

True story.

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