Maybe it's the new holes in my head.

So, I thought Vicodin was supposed to make me a frequent visitor to Sleepy Time, USA. The Mayor, Mr. Sandman, must be on a coffee break. Bet he's eating a scone too, that bastard with his ability to chew.

Not that I don't like the happy pills, but I was looking for a little shut eye too. So far all I've gotten is about an hour worth, which was interrupted with a troubling dream about European hotels and bathrooms. I'm not shaking hands with anybody between stalls, no matter how 'open-door policy' it all is.