Total Whiny Crap

After a whopping two hours and forty five minutes of sleep, I awoke this morning with the name of a guy I didn't even know, nor did I particularly want to, running through my head. To ease my 6:00 AM brain, I, of course, looked him up online. The only mention of him I found was an article about how he bashed someone in the face with a brick in 1992 after a high school wrestling match. He was not athletic, nor full of school pride, as far as I recall anyway. I have no personal recollection of him, I just remember what he looked like. WTF?

Instead of soothing my idiotic brain, this info, or lack thereof, made it run in more and more circles. I wish my body ran as well and as often as my mind. Of course, this meant that a quick few minutes online would not be the solution to getting more sleep.

Then the music started. I could feel it more than hear it, but in my sleep deprived world, it was enough to send my mind racing in another direction. I swear someone from the stupid fucking high school band that lives in my back yard was playing the damn drums. Actually, drum, singular is more appropriate, if a drum at 6:00AM is appropriate in any way, shape or form. Luckily for me, I could only hear it on the side of the house containing my bedroom. As I was getting water, I noticed the vibration had stopped. Then I tripped over a stool and spilled my water. Whoever gets up next is either going to slip or think one of the dogs peer. Whatever. Anyway, as I was approximately halfway through the small ranch house I inhabit, returning from possibly endangering knees, butts, etc. of others, I felt the vibrations start. Fucking awesome. My room is the only room being used past the point of vibration, the extra room is right next to me and of absolutely no help in avoiding the sound.

I can assure you that when I move, I will be inquiring into any prospective town's noise ordinances before I even look at a place. If there are none, like in this town, I'm going to hang up and try elsewhere. I should have known better than to move into a town that greets Easter morning with a roving brass marching band at 3:00AM. Clearly the town has no respect for sleep. The impromptu parades, sirens, band, honking horns and all, after HIGH SCHOOL sporting event wins are another indicator that this place just ain't right.

Do you think there's a charity that supports cross country relocations due to Post Traumatic Band Disorder? If not, maybe I should start one. For the logo, I can have a (fictionalized depiction) of a guy with a tuba shoved up his ass.

Too bad earplugs won't make my bed stop shaking.