I wake up, immediately hop on the computer to track my Amazon shipment of 'Everybody Poops', to see how close I am to finding out what happens to my food.
Next, I flip on the television, usually the Today show. Matt Lauer has calming eyes.
Then, I check in on Red Hot Pawn, too see who the 'Gay O' the Day' is (someone has usually thrown down the Gay-Gauntlets by 11 AM).
I look in on Phlab's profile, to make sure it still has that fresh mahogany aroma.
Next, I pop over to skeeter's profile so I can send a goading message about how she can't post. Then I go for a bowel movement to complete the moment.
By this time (1 PM) I'm usually ready for a nap. I stretch out on my couch, blasting a little GNR, then ponder if Darvlay is gay or not (he's the Gay O' the Day this day), I choose no, this time.
I dream of the moonlight glaring off of rbmorris' shiny dome, waxed to a T. He's made Vegetable Soup with a mini Eggplant Parmesan for lunch. I'm not sure why he's here, but he sure knows how to beat the flavor out of a carrot and into a soup.
I wake up, again going to Red Hot Pawn. I make my moves, then report my credit card number stolen. Skeeter is one Tricky Chicky. She's bought and sent a couple of ounces of illegal drugs to my local police station. The Fuzz and I have an understanding about this already.
I then go to my Myspace, clicking 'yes' to anyone who has added me as a friend, for obvious reasons. No activity. I cry a little.
Now I have to go to bed (I don't eat dinner, I eat a large, wild-game filled breakfast). I brush my teeth, re-discover the ending to 'Everybody Poops', then take a shower.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
