Does the following statement sound familiar to you?
“Wait! Where are you going? It’s only 12:30 a.m. We still have more Walker to watch. Come back! He’s about to figure out who’s killing the Native Americans with contaminated milk. Don’t go! Don’t leave me all alone! It’s still early!”
If so, then you may be suffering from insomnia.
(The smile of a man who roundhouse kicks insomnia’s ass.)
The night can be a lonesome, isolating time for insomniacs. This is especially true for those of us whose spouse refuses to use the crack pipe and Ritalin prescription a little elf slipped into their Christmas stocking and instead complains about having to wake up early for work before selfishly passing out just (seven to ten) hours after sunset.
To cope with the boredom and anxiousness insomniacs know so well, experts suggest reading, sipping warm milk, and soaking in a bath with lavender scented aromatherapy candles. While these ineffective traditions bolster the salaries of PR pros in the publishing, dairy, and wax industries, respectively, I have discovered a more entertaining way to while away the hours that is not only free, but does not discriminate against our sleepless lactose intolerant friends.
So, without further ado, I give you a new method for coping with the monotony of sleeplessness. I call it…Accidentally Overhearing Your Neighbors’ Conversations While Stifling Laughter and Unintentionally Taking Notes on their Dialogue.
The following quotes that I am about to share with you, dear reader, may one day be used in court as evidence that not all adult Americans should be afforded the right to vote in general elections or the privilege to operate machinery, including but not limited to cars, forklifts, and cell phones.
There are about forty people living in the one story house to the left and below ours and I can accurately report that each roommate’s declining cognitive functioning is more fascinating than the last. My anthropological night job has uncovered the fact that some humans, after blowing pungent smoke signals, become hungry and struggle to make sandwiches but their attempts are ultimately thwarted by…lizards.
(Let me just remind you that what you are about to read is an actual quote, that I actually accidentally overheard, and that, thankfully, Brian bore witness to as well. Let me also inform you that this quote comes from a Britney Spears wanna-be type – circa pre vaginal-post-birth-photo era – who favors strange hats like fedoras and has a propensity for screaming obscenities and various verbal abuses at her boyfriend.)
(Image of my actual neighbor punting an iguana.)
Exhibit A, My Favorite Quote Ever:
“Do you have to feed all the lettuce to the fucking iguana or can I have some, too?”
(Learn to share, iguana.)
Call me judgmental, but I’m pretty sure that when your life is reduced to haggling over iceberg lettuce with a domesticated reptile, you have some problems. Combine that with the cranial accoutrements and Tourett Syndrome and a trip to see that land walrus Dr. Phil is likely in your future.
The only other quote worth reporting was good, but not nearly as good as Exhibit A, which made my eyes water it was such a thing of strange beauty.
(I should probably explain that while I am not sure exactly which of the 36 male tenants said this, I have a good idea that it was Britney’s boyfriend, the neglectful owner of a cute English bulldog. For more in-depth revelations on his character I shall post Britney’s diatribes in the near future, which are chock full of information regarding everything from his penis size to his predilection for engaging in dirty acts with women who have procreated.)
Exhibit B:
“No, I can’t go to fucking Vegas to get married. I already told you! It would violate my parole.”
Ah. So tender is young love. Who needs books and ShamWow infomercials when there’s so much drama right below my living room window?
If only I could throw away the laughing hyena’s nitrous tank. She’s really starting to stress me out. Nothing is that funny. Nothing! She has been laughing uncontrollably for days now. Brian says she must be hot or else no one would put up with it, but I’m too afraid of getting caught to peek out the window. For now I shall just lay back, relax, and accidentally eavesdrop while searching for a periscope on eBay.
(Image: My future offspring.)
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