But this one goes to 11 . . .

I woke up today, my day off, at 11 am. I went to bed at 10:30 pm last night. This concerns me, because I woke up with the same vise around my brain that was there when I fell asleep with 2 tylenol pms in me!

Grrrr . . . the end of the semester is upon me, chickens, and it makes for some unfortunate circumstances.

First, it unleashes my inner ridiculousness. (I hear those of you saying, "inner? we wish!") I was helping some students with their final papers and one fellow was positing that the weird sisters in the Scottish Play were the protagonist's downfall (shhhh, he's young) and I started howling with laughter. He turned to me, and I cackled, "is this the 'witch set me up' defense? HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!" Laughed until I cried, no lie. We had already done student evaluations, so I was in the enviable position of, "you can't touch me now!"

Second, it makes me sleepy and it makes my head hurt. Fluorescent lighting in particular hurts my brain. I actually shaded my eyes during most of my grad seminar last night. I was 20 minutes away from wearing sunglasses in class. And then there's the 12+ hour nap I just had. Not a good sign. I shouldn't be this tired. Or at least my head should hurt less after sleeping so long, dammit.

Third, it means all the work parties are upon us. I have a rather formalish shenanigan to go to this weekend. Now, it's work, so I can't be too meow-meow, but I've decided to actually look good. Again, it's the "one week to commencement, witches. do your worst!" sentiment. It is an open bar party, so I'm bringing a buddy. These sorts of parties are recipies for disaster, especially with Megarita in a strapless dress and a chip on her tired, bare shoulder.

Fouth, it means I've finished my first full academic year at my new job. Damn. Makes me relate to the poor girl in this headline this morning: Woman Blows .47 on Breathalyzer. As a naughty friend mentioned, "Someone's raised the bar!" It also makes me aware that my life is less funny than it was back in the day--fewer offers of marriage/purchase from tall, dark, strangers, fewer incidents in laundromats, and fewer idiocies in public. This concerns me most. I've got nothing to write about! Unless this party goes as well as expected . . . fingers crossed.