Who's to blame?: The Boredom Post

It was too hot in the bedroom last night, so I slept part of the night in the living room. I tried the couch first, but couldn't get comfortable. I ended up in the recliner.

I have a big, bulbous head. It's a size 8 melon perched atop my shoulders, and it's all I can do during waking hours to keep it from lolling about like a tetherball on a short rope.

So if I attempt sleeping in an upright position, special arrangements need to be made to keep my dome stable.

Generally, a pillow wrapped around the back of my neck will do it.

But in the course of my unconscious thrashings to and fro, my head slumped down onto my chest. Around 5, I woke up, lifted my head off my chest with both hands, and wandered to the bedroom to finish the night's sleep.

But the damage was done. My neck is frigging killing me. It hurts down where the neck meets the back, and it also hurts where the spine connects to the skull. It's a dull pain, but it makes a sudden swivel left or right of my noggin painful, and looking up damn near impossible.

I blame myself.

But since I am unwilling to accept responsibility, I also blame La-Z-Boy, Gunny, the Gruesome Twosome, McDonald's, Delta Airlines, Jake "the Snake" Roberts, director John Carpenter, Penelope Cruz, my roommate, the Spanish Civil War, the Autobots, my 20th Century American Lit Professor, Pee Wee Herman, Saddam Hussein, Warren Ellis, my parents, Drew Carey, the Bob and Tom Show, George W. Bush's trip to Nashville, Allan H. "Bud" Selig, Pudd'nhead Wilson, William Henry Harrison, Bill's archenemy Bob, the Philadelphia Phillies, Robitussin, Dell Computers, the Nashville Sounds, all of the internet, Hardee's, Mira Sorvino, the letter Q, Alex Trebek, The Whisper of the River by Ferrol Sams, the late Jim Varney, the Ohio State University, my sister, my sister's boyfriend, the invention of the telephone, ghosts, the intentional grounding rule in the NFL, Rush Limbaugh, Al Franken, the atrocity at Andersonville, Charles Bukowski, the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, the current Domino's Pizza ad campaign, everybody in my fantasy baseball league, anybody who likes Shemp more than Curly, Steven West (for telling me that stupid welfare joke), all of the Southern Hemisphere and J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter.

Especially J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter.

I also have suspicions that these parties have something to do with it, though I haven't the time or inclination to research the matter further, since pro rasslin is coming on the teevee in a matter of minutes: the state of Nebraska, the pop up ads on my internet, a pug called Maximus, Terry Pratchett, Robert Altman, Alex from Wisconsin, people who prank call radio stations, most of East Tennessee, all of Middle Tennessee, none of West Tennessee, Lucy Liu, Skip Caray, Chip Caray, Joe "Where's My Ass?" Carter, Raiders fans, R.E.M. (the band and the sleep state), bread, people on cell phones, Jill Lingerfelt, science fiction, K-Mart, James Thurber, Janet Jackson, Larry Himes, Kyle Petty, NASCAR night at Turner Field, boredom, the Bay of Pigs Invasion, Christmas Trees, being able to breathe out of only one of my nostrils, the bastards who cancelled Futurama, Hamas, the Richard Bey show, Darth Vader saying "You are part of the Rebel Alliance, and a Traitor! Take her Away!," people who say I can't end a sentence inside a series of things with an exclamation point and a comma, Moveable Type, cats who urinate on things, my high school guidance counselor who said "You really need to learn to let things go," and also the fact that I've been making this list so long that I've forgotten what it's about.

But don't quote me on that.