Freak Show

There should be a rule about my work not calling me before, oh I don’t know, 5 a.m.? (And by 5 a.m. I mean 10 a.m.) I don’t consider myself above interrupted sleep, the problem is that if ever I actually answer the phone upon being awoken by it I cannot account for what I might say. In the instance that you have never been subjected to my comatose demeanor, count your blessings and let me just tell you- I AM MEAN. Like. . .meaner-than-a-drunk-old-lady mean. (Oh, you’ve never been around either of my grandmothers when they’re drunk? Lucky you.) I once had a friend tell me that if she ever called me again and could tell I was sleeping she would just hang up on me. I agreed this would be optimal for the preservation of our friendship. So as much as my friends can forgive me for being The Crazy Sleeping Bitch (ooo, I think I just found my circus act) I probably don’t have the relationship with my boss to have her laugh off my repeated growls of WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME RIGHT NOW? YOU’RE BEING REALLY ANNOYING, so thank the Lord that I was coherent enough this morning at FOUR A.M. to hang up the phone before I said anything.

By the way, what in the world is with not admitting to being asleep when someone asks if you were sleeping?? To this day, when I clearly (clear as a mumbled grumpy form of WHAT DO YOU WANT?!) am asleep, I still respond with “no, I was just laying down for a bit”. Which is about the equivalent of getting caught picking your nose and saying “I had an itch”.

 
Please don’t mind my face.

Aaaaand self-timer boredom.
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