Insomnia Theater

The time here is 5AM and I still haven't slept a wink tonight. I don't have anything in particular on my mind, either. Since I didn't have any caffeine yesterday or anything that would affect my sleep, I probably have something going on in my subconscious. Since my brain is in a perpetual state of fast forward, I can sometimes channel some of that internal dialog into background noise. The trouble is that I'm still thinking and dwelling on it anyway.

In other words, something is bugging the shit outta the back corners of my mind and I can't stop it. It's kinda like when you get a cricket in your house and you never see it, but as soon as the lights go off, it starts chirping like crazy. Rather than dwelling on whatever is in the back of my head AND that I can't sleep, I thought I'd type for a while and try sleeping again. I have to rest up since Monday I have to be well rested enough for a 10-12 hour drive to North Dakota.

Since we hit stupidity in general yesterday, I thought I'd share a little pharmacy story which does a pretty good job of explaining why all of those sub-par IQ's are spawning. This comes directly from the pharmacist on the spot.

Back in the late 70's (the pharmacist in question is nearly 60 now) they kept condoms behind the counter and tried to be as professional as possible when someone asked for them. One day, this young guy comes up to the counter who looked nervous as hell. The pharmacist kinda guesses what's probably going on, but since it's the kid's first time buying condoms he stifles a smile and goes into professional mode.

"How may I help you, sir?" says the pharmacist.

The young guy replies, "I uh... would like to buy.... some condoms."

"Certainly, sir. Six, twelve, or thirty-six?"

The young guy looks puzzled. With great hesitation he replies, "Inches?"

All I can say is that I hope his girlfriend knew more about sex than he did. With his level of knowledge, he might not know what part to cover with the condom. Also, if there is someone out there who is packing a yard of cock, I am very, very scared.

Anyway, hope you got a laugh outta it. Reading it is certainly a lot less amusing than hearing this guy tell it, but unless you're coming out to the bar with me on a Wednesday, this'll have to do.

I think it's time to head back to bed. I might actually sleep this time instead of lying there by myself in a quiet room. They say miracles can happen, right?