At 5 am...

Everything looks black. I'm currently testing this theory every few weeks or so when I mistakenly wear a blue shirt (which is out of regulation) to work. Hey, you know what... it's a slow blog day. If you don't like it, go read lolcatz or some shit...

Anyway... on a typical morning, usually sometime between 5 and 6, I have to violently rip myself out of a deep slumber. I'm not a morning person in any sense of the word. I might go as far to say that the hours of 6, 7 and 8 are like the axis of evil to my allied sleep forces. Yeah, it's like that. Imagine if you will, a lame cow stuck in the middle of the road. It's desperately trying to get up, move, get anywhere but to no avail. On top of that, it's making the most horrible noise imaginable. That's me, struggling to get up.

As evidenced, I respectfully submit this photo taken while in transit to work.

Note the zombie like appearance.

I feel I should tell you that I don't quite recollect taking this picture, but apparently I felt it important to document the results of this cruel ritual that occurs almost every weekday morning. Moving on...

So, I stumble through a shower, shave, hair product application, deodorant, teeth brushing, etc. etc. and somehow manage to rationalize getting behind the wheel while this tired. Truthfully, some mornings I get out of my car and wonder how I got there. Anyways, I'll write all about my daily attempts to hook a vehicular manslaughter charge later.

So this morning, like many mornings, I grabbed the first shirt in the drawer and threw it on. Strangely enough, I even took a look at it in the little bit of light in my room to make sure it was black. A quick glance was apparently all the affirmation I needed, and I went about my zombie way.

Sure as shit, as soon as I get into work, Little Dave (LD) pipes up...

"Nice blue shirt, dummy!"

This continues pretty much all day...

"Why don't you get in Regs, Sargeant!"

"You know you're supposed to wear black..."

"Nice blue shirt, dummy!" (yeah, i heard that one a few times. LD likes to pick a taunt and stick with it.)

Again, more pictures are taken.


This is becoming a daily ritual. This is me, struggling to find a signal in hopes of intercepting a text from "her". That's not my Dr. Pepper...



Ok, I lied. It is.