2006-10-26 - 8:28 p.m.

I KNOW WHICH DWARF I AM TODAY

I stayed up far too late again, enjoying the favors of my beloved computer. I tell myself I'm not gonna do it, and then I do it again, staying up until I'm one sleepy mofo, with barely 5 hours left to make all the necessary nocturnal repairs to my rapidly wilting flesh. Still, I woke up feeling good, rustled up my young and sent them off happily too (one wearing an afro, a-la Sweathog Freddie Washington, as it's "70's Day"). It being the boss' birthday, I even managed to get to work an entire hour early for his festivities, which some hamskull had scheduled for 8:30 am. I had a little dose of pure sugar courtesy of the early morning birthday cake, and despite a few yawns, I feel swell. For now. By tonight, when my computer summons me, I'll be too tired to stand...but I betcha a fiver I'll stay up yet again.

My family will be returning to Hot Springs for Thanksgiving, and I'm happy about that, too. I *love* that place. I love how the water comes up out of the ground, steaming...I love the strings of stores, the church bells that ring old hymns at noon and five, the German restaurant with the chef who looks like a walrus and serves schnitzel as it should be, and countless other things, not the least of which is the remarkable spas. I am no stranger to hot soaks, reflexology, facials and copious massage. Bring it ON.

I always pine for a mate when I'm in Hot Springs. It's so romaaaaantic, I can hardly stand it. I walk around and soak it all up and watch other couples and pity myself and mull over the fact that one day I'll finally go there with somebody who is NOT my sister. (No offense, sis; you know I love you, but...I don't want to kiss you on the balcony of the Majestic, dude. You dig?)

Welp. The spell's broken, friends; no more waxing poetic about my beloved Hot Springs, for I just received a call from a fellow who asked if I could play "Go Rest High On That Mountain" ONCE AN HOUR FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. That particular cut is the discerning hick's top choice for a funeral tune and is solidly among the Top 5 Most Depressing Country Songs In The World...and Goober wants it on continuous loop. I told him the song was such a concentrated dose of depression that it is illegal to play it more
than once in a 24 hour period. He actually tried to dispute me when I refused to sanction his misery festival. What a bonehead.

Oh...so tired. Must...stay...awake.

For science!

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