Brass Monkey/that Funky Monkey/Brass Monkey Junkie/That funky monkey
Aye. So here we are on Monday. For as long as I can remember, I've prided myself on having what I consider incredible weekends. You know, where you don't get a lot of sleep, you have a ton of fun, and then you spend two or three days just trying to get back to normal so you can do it all over again? Yeah, I love that. That's what weekends are for. What, did you think they were for rest? Relaxation? Yeah, I'll do that when I'm dead. Inject me with some cheese!
But there comes a time, when you wonder if you didn't do too much. Like Saturday. I went to sleep on Friday at two thirty or so. After hanging out at Jerm's for a bit, watching Indiana Jones, and then sitting around at my house trying to get sleepy. So I go to sleep, get up the next morning at six fifty, shower, hop in the car and go to work. I work from 7:30 till 4:00. That's right, a half hour shy of nine hours of work. I then go home and sleep right? Wrong! Wrong! I change clothes and go play football. Three touchdowns, two achy knees, and one seriously disconcerting dizzy spell later I head home. Finally to sleep? No. . .to shower and dash off to see the Legend of Zorro. Then to Logan's. And finally home to sleep. At about eleven thirty. An early night, I know, but well, I had to sleep at some point.
I'm usually against blogging for the sole purpose of talking about what I've been doing, but this proves a valid point for me. I'm tired. Okay, that's all I have to say.
You expect me to talk? No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!