Foiled again!

So my X-Factor essay (review? critique?) is proving longer than I thought it would be, plus I was pretty busy on Monday and Tuesday evenings, and writing an extended essay on comics at my work is problematic for a number of reasons, so here I am again (on my own), with no X-Factor and more stuff about my life.

I remembered yesterday that karaoke on Tuesday ended with Frank giving my phone number to Darien, the Karaoke Overlord. For what reason, exactly, I can only speculate. I'm fuzzy on the details. I wasn't drunk, just really tired. Then I, along with Doug, Jenni, Kim, and this guy Jay I've met a couple of times, went to the Powells' to hang out. Except I only stayed about five minutes because I realized it was 1:30 in the morning and I was dead tired, plus I had to get up in six hours. So off I scampered to the apparent perplexelment (my made of word of the day) of everyone there. Despite my efforts, my body still didn't think it had enough sleep, so it put me in a coma most of yesterday evening. I got home, flopped down on the couch, fell asleep, woke up around 8 when Emory and Leslie got home, watched Lost (it's as awesome as I'd hoped) and some Invader Zim and then fell asleep again around 10:45, again on the couch. I only made it to my bed around 1:30 AM, with considerable effort.

Body, I'm sorry I torture you with so little sleep. But I got shit to do, man! Lay off! You didn't used to act like this, even a couple of years ago. Clearly I am getting old.