Disclaimer: This post is really just one big bitch fest. You probably shouldn’t read it.

A morning person, I am not.

Seriously. I can grip a cup of coffee and superficially chirp like the best of ‘em, but let it be known that it’s all a charade; I desperately want to kill you.  I want to kill you for sharing with me the time and space that is morning, this despicable daypart in which I should be turning peacefully in slumber.

That said, I am so lucky that I work at a radio station from six a.m to noon on a Saturday morning.  [Hello, Sarcasm? Speaking.]  Every few hours, I’m given the task of taking a caller to potentially win Rolling Stones tickets.  Easy, and yet, every Dick and Jane in Indiana thinks they can buck the system and get me to tell them exactly when this takes place.  Because when I roll out of bed hungover at 5:45 am, I look forward to dealing with such people, to whom I want to yell: “FUCK THE TICKETS, MAN! WHY AREN’T YOU SLEEEEEEEPING?”  This also means that any song whose intro sounds REMOTELY similar to the Stones is met with 9238423 calls of people hanging up. “Being yards away from Mick Jagger ain’t gonna mean shit when I fucking KILL YOU!” I shout into the empty receiver.  Okay, I don’t.  Because that would require effort/loudness.

Side note: Like 90% of the world’s population, I love the Beatles.  But I gotta tell ya, the Stones are so much sexier than the Beatles.  I hear a song like Midnight Rambler and the only thoughts running through my head are Wow, I want to have sex with Bad Boy. Like, now.

And: Chicken Fries are stupid.

So, is there anything that makes you happy? Yes.  Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, the best kids cartoon right now.  The premise is this: A house for ABANDONED IMAGINARY FRIENDS.  I love this.  My favorite character is Blooregard, a blue, door-shaped blob.