the sleeping pill and the beers are kicking in. head feels heavy, eyes want to close, a bed would feel good right now. the kitchen floor could also pass for feeling good at this moment. another long yawn, i rub my eyes. the delete key is getting used way too often. i had to take a break from typing to massage my neck and shoulders. but i'm back now. my woman just asked how do i type when i'm tired like this. i have a reply for that bitch but, one, i have no energy. and two. because i don't care, i think i don't care or something. i'm realizing that a slow naked lap dance would feel good right about now. i just rubbed my eyes again in hopes of buying more time but it might have only added a few seconds. ahhhh another swig of beer, that's the good stuff. if it weren't for beer, my dad probably would not have poked my mom, then where would i be? they weren't in love, i know that. I've known for awhile. maybe that's why i'm addicted to sex. and i don't just mean regular Adam and Eve sex. i mean Jim and Naomi sex, and Stacy, and April, the good stuff. damn, i gotta get to bed.