Does anyone remember cellular peptide cake?

I am sitting in Jacquelyn's apartment, typing into an iBook G4, and about to fall into the depths of SleepyTime DreamLand. With the price of gas reaching levels where it's almost cheaper to build a car that runs on gold, I'm sleeping here while she's at work so I don't have to make the 100 mile round trip home to catch my much-needed Zzzzz Zzzzzz.

There are about a half dozen topics I'd like to wax philosophical about right now, but my brain is acting as if I'd coated it a think varnish, baked it at 300 degrees for an hour and a half, added three cups of flour and chilled peanut oil, then pumped it into a car tire through an air pump.

Not pleasant at all, nor conducive to intelligent thought.

I want to wax the floor with the pink oven mitt of glory, to challenge the wildebeest of love with a flippin' twelve gauge, whaddaya think! I want to caress cacophony with ladle of lust, to piss away the chains of businesses with a stout retirement plan.

I want a ménage à trois with God and the Goddess until my head explodes and I transubstantiate into light.

Is that too much to ask?

And to my surprise, my eyes were wide and already open.

Cartographers can't begin to map the territory of the soul, but I accidentally stumbled upon my Holy Guardian Angel while playing Oregon Trail.

Not so long ago I went to sleep and after what seemed like an eternity, dreams upon dreams, lifetimes spent floating around Yesod, I awoke, feeling refreshed and alive. I peered at the digital clock next to the bed to determine how much objective time had passed in the 'real' world and to my surprise it had been a single hour.

Double-You-Tee-Eff?

So I forced myself to go back to sleep, which lasted a whopping two more hours. I'm still wide-awake with a total three hours of sleep. I should have stayed up after the first hour; at least then I remembered my dreams, which have all but faded like a sidewalk chalk landscape after a morning rain.

There are frat boys who live next door to Jacquelyn and I've yet to hear a kind or even unperturbed word escape from their house. They are loud and constantly barking at each other, and that's not when they're on the phone to their girlfriends, bitching that they just want to spend time with them. Why they have these loud conversations outside, I'll never know. I have thus far refrained from spewing venom out the window with a shut-the-fuck-up rant, mostly out of respect for the fact that I don't live here and don't want to piss off the neighbors.

See what a good boyfriend I am :)

So I showered and went downtown to discover that something suspiciously like the Taste of Madison is going on. Lots of little booths and tents scattered around the Capital building selling innumerable yummy concoctions tickled and seduced my hunger, yet I am strong and a master of my desires! Lo, I did not partake of their scrumptious goodness!

Instead I bought a shirt at Ragstock and a peanut butter mocha from Espresso Royale Cafe.