I am barely functioning

Wednesday, Dec. 06, 2006, 11:50 p.m.

Since I got off work at 10 and am currently attempting to unwind my brain enough for it to let me go to sleep sometime in the next few hours, I figured an entry could well be in order. Also, I just ate some Chinese food. (I usually like to give that a couple hours to digest before bed, as the potentially resulting Curse of the Sesame Chicken is much easier to deal with while fully awake.)

Thirdly, my roommate is currently having some kind of marathon fuckfest with her boyfriend one thin wall away, and any distraction from that is a welcome one. I really wouldn't mind so much if their noises didn't sound so eerily inhuman -- say what you will, but when your orgasm-moan reminds me of an Animal Planet feature presentation, it is probably time for you to reconsider opening your motherfucking mouth.

Today was Day Two of my drivers' training class, and O Joy, it actually included some driving.

If any of you have ever driven a humvee, you know that it handles something like a giant pile of rocks would if you mounted it on a few wheels and attached a steering wheel. Except, slower. My task was to maneuver the truck (complete with attached trailer) into a humvee-sized parking spot, backward. My esteemed co-worker, Babymomma, is taking the class with me, and acted as my ground guide -- a task she had absolutely no experience with.

Now, I'm going to attempt to draw you into the moment, here. Imagine that you are watching a football game in which your team is maybe a half-yard from the end zone, yet somehow still can't manage to score a touchdown. Further imagine that your team's quarterback has some kind of learning disability that causes him to sometimes forget how to throw. Lastly, imagine that the football, if thrown improperly, could very well cause serious injury to the entire team.

If you have this picture in your head, you are most likely ready to begin to comprehend how badly I suck at driving a humvee.

By the time I finally got my vehicle and trailer into place, a sizeable crowd had formed -- all wanting autographs and to give me money for managing to put off attending this weekly class for four years, I thought -- an encouraging, yet indescribably annoying group intent on witnessing me either hit a thing or hit a human being.

Holy fuck. This story will have to be continued, as I have an urgent matter of passing immediately out to handle. The last time I forced my body to stay awake for the purpose of writing anything, the thing I was writing ended up being entirely about the dreams I was having as I sleep-typed.

If I snore, just kick me.