A thought from the Ass End of the Night

A Thought From the Ass End of the Night

Despite what my friend Jill says she read in a "magazine," this is the time when Katie Couric used to wake up. I mean, honestly, who's more trustworthy? Me, or the rest of the print media world?

I ask you this: Who has the most to gain by printing the truth?

Yours, truly.

5 AM? To be on the 7 AM Today show? That's ludicrous. Who does she think she is? Me? Do you think Katie Couric had it timed down to the minute the absolute latest time she could sleep till, and still have time to shower, get dressed and still have time to drive to work?

Here's a little bit of trivia I'll spring on ya:

To be completely prepared to do The Today Show, you have to wake up at 2:15 in the afternoon before the show to get all the information and makeup that you'd need.

Me? know that if I have to be there at seven in the morning, I can sleep until 6:10, 6:15ish, get a four minute shower, get dressed, shove toast down my gullet and goof off until 6:43...doing whatever...just so long as I'm out the door by 6:43.

And that 6:43 is a school-year time. There's a school bus that I run risk of getting behind if I leave later. Now that school's out in my neck of the woods, I might could stretch that time to 6:47.

Four more minutes of sleep! Ye Gods.

Of course, here I sit at 4:26 in the morning, having been woken up by my sixth or seventh elevator dream in the past week and a half.

Seriously. Been dreaming about elevators. Not bad dreams. Mostly, they're pretty cool. In one of them, I was able to fly by running in place. In another, I got to talk to my grandfather, who passed away last year.

Had another one tonight. Nothing to really speak of. I'm staying in a hotel, and the elevator takes a long time to get from the lobby to the floor my room is on (which is either the fifth floor, or one several miles in the sky, depending on whom you believe from my dream, the desk clerk or the Decepticon Shockwave).

Woke up a bit before 3 to take a piss, and here I am some hour and a half later, talking jive on some blog that sevens of people read everyday.

But I do it because it's fulfilling.

Unless my job fulfills me. What with its five minute telephone conversations I have over the matter of 3 cents. Nonfood and food have different tax rates here in the wonderful state of Taxsylvania Tennessee, and a customer was confused about why one item on her bill, at $2.99, was costing her 27 cents in tax, or there abouts....when if it had been food, it would have cost her 24 cents....

We managed to turn it into a lovely bitchfest about the gubmint. Still, I don't know where she was calling from...she was local more than likely...but if she'd been calling from across a county line, it might have been considered long distance, and likely, her phone call would have eaten up whatever three cents she was bitching about within the first 15 seconds....

Yeah. Job satisfaction. It's highly overrated.

Well, it's now 4:39, and Katie Couric is asleep somewhere. Do you think she'll wake up out of force of habit for several weeks, before the asscrack of dawn, and then smile herself back to sleep, content in the knowledge that those saps Matt Lauer and the Who Wants to Be a Millionaire lady are crawling out of bed to talk about Sugarless Pie recipes and to interview the still drunk Hugh Grant about his latest movie in which he is an awkward shy guy?

Or do you think she's an android, with no need of sleep?

That thought just crossed my mind, but I now consider it a distinct possibility.