Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Morning in America
Have I mentioned that I am not a morning person? I would estimate that I spend easily the first hour of every day utterly unable to function, halfway stuck in bizarre dreams about spaceships and the Russian gymnastics team, lying on my bed staring blankly at traffic reports on NBC5 and wondering if maybe Ellee Pai Hong and Dick Johnson have something going on between them. Even once I rouse myself, I lack the ability to string English words together into coherent sentences until well nigh ten, a deficit that no doubt corroborates my co-workers’ view that I am in fact a hardcore drug user.
Coworker: Hey, Jay, how’s it going?
Jay: Huh?
Coworker: How are you?
Jay: Morning... so cold... the light...
Coworker: Rough night last night, huh? You seem a little "out of it."
Jay: Sleep... so tired... must kill.
Coworker: Ha ha, well, good luck with that. Lay off the hard stuff, okay?
Jay: Put the monkey on the piano...
It’s not until later, after I’ve drooled all over my keyboard and dazedly "reorganized" all the files in my office into a huge pile on the floor that I come to my senses (and even then I use that term loosely). Of course, by mid afternoon I’m pumped so full of caffeine and sugar that I’m jibber jabbering like Robin Williams’s slightly-less-sexy cousin, but it’d be nice to have some middle ground, you know? I’m not exactly sure what the answer is, but I’m betting it’s got the words "Phizer" and "Pharmaceuticals" in there somewhere.
Have I mentioned that I am not a morning person? I would estimate that I spend easily the first hour of every day utterly unable to function, halfway stuck in bizarre dreams about spaceships and the Russian gymnastics team, lying on my bed staring blankly at traffic reports on NBC5 and wondering if maybe Ellee Pai Hong and Dick Johnson have something going on between them. Even once I rouse myself, I lack the ability to string English words together into coherent sentences until well nigh ten, a deficit that no doubt corroborates my co-workers’ view that I am in fact a hardcore drug user.
Coworker: Hey, Jay, how’s it going?
Jay: Huh?
Coworker: How are you?
Jay: Morning... so cold... the light...
Coworker: Rough night last night, huh? You seem a little "out of it."
Jay: Sleep... so tired... must kill.
Coworker: Ha ha, well, good luck with that. Lay off the hard stuff, okay?
Jay: Put the monkey on the piano...
It’s not until later, after I’ve drooled all over my keyboard and dazedly "reorganized" all the files in my office into a huge pile on the floor that I come to my senses (and even then I use that term loosely). Of course, by mid afternoon I’m pumped so full of caffeine and sugar that I’m jibber jabbering like Robin Williams’s slightly-less-sexy cousin, but it’d be nice to have some middle ground, you know? I’m not exactly sure what the answer is, but I’m betting it’s got the words "Phizer" and "Pharmaceuticals" in there somewhere.
