Blargh. Also, Giveaway Winners!

I used random.org to select winners for last week’s giveaway winners. The winners are: Matt, Willy, Sarah S, David and Bellacantare. Congrats to all of you! I sent you all an email yesterday asking for your addresses. Let me know if you didn’t get it.

After writing about blogging on Monday, I feel the need to write something interesting, funny and compelling today.

I also feel the need to study the backs of my eyelids at great length.

These would appear to be incompatible goals.

I sometimes find sleep deprivation to be an excellent muse. Extreme fatigue makes me sharper… right up to the point where I hit that wall. Unfortunately, I’ve been bashing my head up against said wall for a good chunk of today. I gave up caffeine a long time ago (trust me when I say that Hope + caffeine = not a pretty sight). Which means that I only have the force of my own will-power and the use of a couple of toothpicks to keep me awake today.

Also, my innate desire to not be fired. I’m told that employers don’t take too kindly to napping on the job.

(Unless you work as a mattress tester).

(Do mattress testers get fired for not sleeping on the job? Is there even such a job as a mattress tester? Is anybody even reading this anymore)?

Anyways, I’m ridonculously tired because I spent the long weekend having fun with my sisters Allison and Christina and not sleeping. It was a fantastic weekend, made even more fantastic by the fact that I didn’t go to work for five days straight. My only regret is that our other sister wasn’t able to join us. I might also regret having consumed that second Jack and Ginger on Saturday night, but that’s neither here nor there.

Five days is a lot of material to recap in one entry, especially one where I don’t have access to any of the pictures. So, I will give you the highlights.

(Gallant spends the weekend laughing with his sisters).

(Goofus spends the weekend making his sisters cry).

In Which We Amuse Our Waitstaff and Stalk My Friends
Allison and her husband, Dustin, took a red eye out from California. We went to pick them up at about half past the crack of dawn. Believe it or not, this resulted in nobody getting a decent night’s sleep. I know, I know, I’m shocked myself. What do you do when you’re sleep deprived and punchy? You go out for breakfast and then you draw on the tablecloths.

Ok, it was a restaurant where the tablecloths are paper and they provide you with crayons. The waitstaff was impressed with our artistic talents. Christina drew a bunch of produce with accompanying puns (“I will beet you,” “Endive right in!” “I have a zest for life.”) while I was content to doodle killer robots and pirate ninjas. They hung our “artwork” up after we left. Because we’re awesome. And who doesn’t love a good endive pun? I think we cracked the waitstaff up the entire time we were there.

While sitting in the restaurant, I noticed the bassist from my band walking to work. Never one to let a good stalking moment go to waste, I picked up my phone and called him (I could have run outside to say hi, but that’s just so analog).

“Hey Howie, you’re two minutes late for work!”

“Uhhh…. Hi Hope.”

“Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?”

I kid! I kid! (at least as far as the cops know…) He was a good sport and stepped into the restaurant to say hi. We showed him our drawings and I tried not to rub it in that I was about to consume waffles. For waffles are delicious and going to work is not.

In Which I Ask A Bar To Smell My Hair – And It Does
My band played a gig on Saturday night. Excellent timing, if you ask me, because my sisters usually don’t get to see us play. And by “usually don’t,” I mean, “never.” The band sounded great, the audience got super into it and I wore my new wig. A wig that came smelling like fruity vanilla.

In other words, my wig smells vaguely like a stripper.

If you know what a stripper smells like.

Which I… don’t.

I’m told that they smell nice.

In an effort to get everyone to appreciate my wig and it’s stripper smelly qualities, I wandered the bar asking people to smell my head. The consensus is that I did, indeed, smell a bit like a stripper. Also, that I look awesome with pink hair.

(I may have made that last part up).

The gig went so well, the bar asked us to come back for another gig that isn’t planned 72 hours in advance. The band and I are all looking forward to playing there in March. You’d best believe I will be wearing a wig of some sort.

In Which We Debate Nature Vs. Nurture While Watching a Lifetime TV Show
As many of you know, I cry at the drop of the hat. As in “Oh no, someone dropped their hat. I’d better cry now.”  Well, apparently there is a good excuse for this. And that excuse is genetics. Over the course of the weekend, my sisters and I watched a good chunk of the first season of Drop Dead Diva. This show is ridiculous. As in, ridiculously awesome (also as in ridiculous).  This show is also extremely cheesy. And, at one point, it made all three of us cry. Ridiculous tears of ridiculousness.

I’m not sure why we were naturally selected to cry so easily. Perhaps saber tooth tigers don’t like their food too salty.

I suppose it could be a good tactic. The next time someone picks a fight with me, I’m going to cry and then kick them in the shins. I’ll let you all know how that works out.

All in all, it was a great weekend. At some point, I’ll post some pictures. Until then, I’ll be enjoying my three day work week.