Bloody Red Eyes Go to Sleep

Now here is a picture of some trains and a fence.

I'm just going to go ahead and start this post out with a disclaimer. I woke-up with that bad cold that everyone else has this morning. My eyes looked just like Sylvester Stallone's at the end of Rocky. I came this close to slitting them with a razor, so I could see better. And even though I'm on my meds, I still have a bit of a migraine, so don't go thinking I'll be making any sense on here today. I did you all a favor, however, and I'm posting before I take my cold medicine. I'm here to tell you, it could be way worse.

I went on date number three last night. I probably won't do many more date posts, (unless something really funny happens) because I'm sure there has to be a limit. I'm just guessing, because I'm not a girl who understands limits very well. It seems like people either stop going on dates with each other, or they continue going on dates and if it goes on for a long, long time, blogging about them could turn into something like this:

Our 5,745th date was great. I think. What I can remember of it, was that we sat in our matching Lay-Z Boys, eating TV dinners, while watching Matlock reruns. At some point, he farted and I said , "Good one." And he said, "Thank you." And then we both fell asleep in our chairs and woke-up the next morning with cricks in our necks.

Please feel free to come to my house and shoot me in the head, if I ever write that post for real.

My real date was nothing like that. Unfortunately for him, it was a lot of me being lame, because, like tonight, I was rocking a bit of a migraine. He bought wine, that didn't come out of a box, (that's how classy he is) but I couldn't drink it because of my bad brain. I also think I did that embarrassing, spaced-out thing I do where I tell the same lame-ass story I've probably already told him too many times before. Poor guy.

I got to see the wonder that is Guitar Hero. It reminded me a bit of Dance Dance Revolution, but with way better music. I think to appreciate the full beauty of it, you'd have to be a stoned-out thirteen year old boy, but I have a feeling, my brain isn't wired too much differently than that, so I appreciated it just fine.

I'm sure there were a hundred other ways I was lame, and listing them all off here, would only make me look really, really bad. So, let's just say, I'm planning to bring much better game next week.

Now, I'm off to take as much cold medicine as the box allows and fall asleep telling myself the same dumb stories over and over again.