Ever have one of those days when it probably would have behooved you to pull the covers over your head, ignore the alarm, and sleep until the next morning? Yeah, me too.

Do you ever wonder, sometimes, why you say things you say? Why you bother? Or why you can't keep your big mouth shut? I've been feeling that way a lot, lately. And it's never intentional. I'm not vindictive -- I wouldn't intentionally bring grief upon myself or loved ones. It's not how I am, contrary to what many believe about me. I wonder sometimes if someone, somwhere, is playing a big cosmic joke on me ... manipulating me like a marionette, chuckling with glee everytime I throw a huge monkey wrench into an otherwise smooth-running operation. "Let's have Jason say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time. EVERYDAY!!!" I'm fucking sick of it. Thank God for Xanax. Although I think I need a stronger prescription.

After the president's speech last night, I'm even more convinced that he's a huge moron. Gigantic. Gargantuan. Mythical.

I have unfortunately developed a "tolerance" for over-the-counter sleep aids. They didn't do squat for me last night.

I can't wait to get the hell out of town next weekend.

Now that the rumors of the Toad the Wet Sprocket reunion tour have proven to be true, I need to get my ass in gear and get tickets.

I'd really like to see more live music, in general.

Turning 35 this year has kind of fucked with my head a little bit. Weird.

The Xanax is kicking in. I couldn't care less now...