Good Morning My Ass

I sleep with my hand on the snooze button. Not the entire night, just from the ungodly hour I set the alarm for until the time I realize I have less than 30 minutes to get to work. I'm a chick, 30 minutes means I'm going to stumble into work looking like I just had an all-nighter with Paris Hilton. Wait, that sounds pervy. And Paris just isn't my type, too bony.

Anyway, there I am, 6:30 am, all warm and snuggly in bed, hitting snooze every 4 minutes (yes, every 4 minutes, not the standard 9, b/c this particular Timex jewel is just a bitch). It's during one of these fitful snooze sessions that it dawns on me: When I was in school, I had to get up at 5:45 most mornings, in order to make it by 7:10 for the first bell. And what did all that early rising get me? Yeah, that thought made me want to smother myself with a pillow.

And yet, on those happy non-working days, when I get to dream about the various Men of Alias as long as I'd like, I find I am awake and blinking by 9:30, at the latest. Not only am I awake, I feel guilty, like I've already wasted half the day. wtf? I remember when sleeping in meant never having to say "good morning". When did I get old???

On a slightly more disturbing note: Have you seen the new Skittles commercial, with the Sheep-Boys? I'm just going to let that thought settle in for a moment..... Sheep-Boys. This is how the Mars Co. wants to lure me into their fruity web? I don't think so.