The entire night, (finally in my own home) I was in constant flux between incredibly awake and incredibly tired. Conan O’Brian helped me through part of it, a cold shower through another. I also started listening to director commentaries on all of my DVDs. It should be noted that I am at a point in history where VHS is being phased out and DVDs are taking over. Fast. I am not averse to owning a DVD, I own a measly thirteen, but to date I am proud to say that I have not bought one. God, I love birthdays! Where was I? Oh, Quentin Tarantino is a self- serving bitch! Listen to the Reservoir Dogs director commentary sometime. He looooves himself. I think that I will create a clone machine so that Quentin Tarantino can suck his own cock.

On the upside, the sun came up and I was happy to play ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ by ELO, as I readied myself for the day. One class of review for the final, and a long day of work. I let slip my sabbatical from sleep, and had a hard time convincing everyone that I was alright. But I did get my first taste of Red Bull energy drink. It doesn’t give you wings, but it does wake you up in such a way as to indicate how abominably unnatural this energy drink is. After work I intended to go get research for a paper, but several more friends roped me into showing them the short film I made. I mean short. Thirty seconds. But then we watched Kevin Smith movies and called each other petty names until it was time for them to sleep and Bill to go home. Babies.

I told my boss I would get a good night’s sleep.

I lied.

Cheerio’s Bee sez: Suck my honey-nuts. You’re my Cheerio’s bitch now.


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