party time is over and i can't even show up to work late tomorrow

Ooooh boy.

Feels like it will be a while before I'm fully recovered from the past couple weeks. I literally had the crap kicked out of me by good times. I was almost back to normal last week actually, until the RJD2 show. I had been feeling about 92 percent Herman at the time and was able to string together a couple coherent thoughts and articulate an idea or two without 'umming' or 'ahing' or losing focus. But that night set me back. Big time.

I think I might be near 92 percent again, following two of the laziest days I've had in a while. Watched Moon last night. You should check that out. Good sci-fi doesn't grow on trees.

And just to let you know, I'm judging how I feel based on my shits and let me tell you, there were a couple over the past two weeks that even I was embarrassed to call my own. The bubbling, molten ooze in the toilet bowl reminded me of the contents of those radioactive bio-hazard canisters from the Ninja Turtle movies.

But life has been grand and once I'm able to process the past few weeks, hopefully there will be a nugget or two worth sharing.

She was good. Berry, berry good.

But it's Sunday night and it's right back to work again and I'm definitely feeling the lost hour we got gypped this weekend.

I kind of have a beef about this whole Spring Forward business, and it's not that I'm angry about the fact that we lost an hour, but just how we can no longer use it to our advantage.

You see, our lives are too easy now and we don't do anything for ourselves. We used to need to know about this daylight savings time stuff and program our clocks the next day. It was always great meeting up with people the next day, because you either knew or didn't know and plans always got messed up.

But in our world where a bar of soap is becoming obsolete (I dropped a deuce in my roommate's bathroom the other day because I didn't want to disturb any guests near the kitchen and I washed my hands with this goop from a bottle marked 'physiological cleaning gel.' Man, are we kidding ourselves. What's wrong with a bar of soap?) I can no longer stroll into work an hour late with a self-satisfied grin on my face on Monday and lie and blame it on daylight savings time. That was the one benefit of this dopey ritual. Now, though, our cellphones automatically jump ahead at 2 a.m. on Sunday morning and they narc us out and kill any opportunity for an excuse.

Another reason to ditch the cellphone, I suppose.