To lay or not to lay...

What's it like to be able to sleep in as late as you want? I'll tell you. It's awesome. (Self high five? Yes! *slap* Booyah!) Day after day, nothing beats the feeling of hearing my consciousness surface under covers and having no inclination to move. But, it would be nice if something did beat it into a small pulp. One of those old, "shit! shit! I'm late!"'s could do the trick, or, a "damnit, I've got a lot of shit to do. I need to get cracking." A "damn, I'm starving/hungover" or "I'm gunna murder those neighbors if they don't stfu." Instead, my neck hurts a little bit and I just kinda sit with my eyes open considering my dream, which may as often relive my video game experiences as it does my tv watching experiences. Josh told me to, so I spent last night watching the rest of Season One of How I Met Your Mother, (a captivatingly awesome, laugh out loud series that later makes me feel like shit for not mirroring their life at all career-wise, socially or relationship-wise), so my dream had something to do with those characters. Even the repeated doorbell rings didn't get me to move, because I figured only bad things could come of it. Just getting up, my hair usually looks like greasy shit, I'll rock stubble like a homeless person, my morning breath smells like morning breath, and since I usually fall asleep in whatever I wore yesterday, my clothes probably smell like "my house is too hot" sweat. Besides, I could think of four possible people at the door. 1) Somebody serving papers for my dad's divorce. 2) Girl scout's peddling cookies 3) Some neighbor stopping by to chat with my dad. 4) My mom, which would lead to my dad dialing 911 to seek murder protection, and a lot of useless drama, since she weighs about 105 pounds and isn't out to kill anybody but herself. If it was somebody we knew, they would shout something. Via voice recognition, we would answer the door. Instead, I lay like a mortally-wounded gazelle, waiting for someone else to answer the door so I could learn who it was ringing the doorbell once every couple minutes while my father showered. What a piece of shit. I know. Social encounters scare me about as much as committment. Neither puts me in a state of paralysis, but if allowed to choose for it or against it, I'd sit in the other room procrastinating my decision. I went back to sleep, because it was 8:15am, and I didn't wake up again until 11:45. I've never been a morning person. Never been a day person either. I like to stay up all night doing my useless routine with the light of my monitor lighting up my room. I'm with the hungover people on this one: daylight sucks. My best friend James called me back yesterday, after he was done coaching wrestling, just as Trueblood: the Last Vampire was starting in the living room and I was all situated to watch it with my dad and his girl in our three separate comfy chairs. We talked about random fun shit--wrestling, family, opinions, recommendations, careers, etc. When we wrapped up, I came back inside to watch the last ten minutes of the movie, which was slow and involved bad acting. I lacked the element of emotion due to my missing the entire movie, so when she killed her mother, I really didn't care. My dad has a different taste in movies, so we don't share that, and besides, he always falls asleep during them, even my favorite movies, so it's just aggravating. To his credit, he did take me to see 2012 a few days ago, which was much better than expected. The trailers lead me to believe it was just great effects and skimped on the plot, but it was solid. Anyway, old Sonatra-like Christmas Classics have been going for hours now, so I need to put on my headphones. I'm going to pretend I'm leaving to take a shower now, so I can put on some new clothes, but really I'm just going to dig into the next 22 episodes of How I met Your Mother. "High five?" "Sorry, I only give out high two's." *Peace*