Isle of Remote

i’ve had about 1.75 hours of sleep in the last 24 hours and i’m really stupid. evidence being that i’m writing this when my soft plush bed beckons. thought it would be fun to see what i could write when i’m so tired it hurts to hit thespacebar. hmmm. not much. really, i’m so tired i sound drunk. like a puppy. or a salamander. i think if i type long enough i will put myself into a lucid dreaming trance and all the great mysteries of the universe will be revealed to me. like why the big-boob bras are always put on the lowest racks in the stores. is it because sheer gravity will lead us to the correct size? i dunno.
maybe some peppy emoticons will wake me up
not really
i didn’t wear my new shoes today (btw, it took me five attempts to spell “wear” correctly…). The black Clarks my mom got me - they’re cool. I didn’t really have to work today.
saw myself in a glass window and MAN i need to lose weight. can you do a gastric bypass at home? like if i just swallowed a lot of paper clips would they fill up my stomach and i wouldn’t eat so much? kinda sounds worthy.
you know if you really wanna get drunk but you don’t have money for liquor, try sleep deprivation…really, i think it’s the same feeling. I mean, I think i’m really clever right now…