There's only so much lying down, masturbation, and eating one human can handle.

Guys, I am so disappointed. I tried to add some m4a files to this blog for your listening pleasure . . . but haven't the slightest clue as to how to do that. You see, I've recorded a few things on my iPhone lately that I thought you (or at least me) would get a kick out of listening to on here.

So, unfortch, I will have to just describe to you two of the things I was going to post:

1.) a memo to myself I recorded today, a musing on being sick and bed-bound, if you will. That's where my title originated from--how boring it can be when you are alone in your apartment, with bronchitis and some other upper respiratory infection, trying to find activities to quench your boredom--other than napping. Mind you, I suppose I could have done my writing class homework or done my taxes, but I considered that requiring too much brain power for my illness.

2.) I recorded my dishwasher doing its thing the other day because it was inspiring me to choreograph an African tribal dance. There were so many different rhythms and beats, and it just sounded so . . . tribal. I could hear the drums chiming in, and that's when I decided my next creative project will include choreographing a dance to the sound of a dishwasher.

So, those ideas written out do not even come close to the vast magnificence of the recordings. Sorry. Use your imagination.

Who the EFF is singing like that outside at 10:36 at night? Sounds like Idinia effin Menzel. Maybe it is.

So. As you may have heard (from bullet point #1 up there), I have been out of commission for approximately four days due to bronchial matters. In fact, I have been sick for most of February. But since I never rest (not a strong suit of mine), it really got out of control around Tuesday. And that, my friendsicles, is why I have not chosen a winner for the giveaway . . . UNTIL NOW. I chose at random, out of a sorting hat . . .

I hereby officially announce the WINNER of the FRIDAY GIVEAWAY to be:
Bridget

Congratulations, Bridget. You will receive that fancy wristlet by owl. Just kidding, snail mail. Just kidding, by owl. Anyway, I'm so happy for you and your future dazzle.

God, is that an F sharp?
I'm sorry, but it's extremely difficult to write in these conditions. Conditions being fierce female belting in the distance.

In other news of things I can hear, I swear to GOD I keep hearing dinosaurs in my kitchen. This has happened on more than one occasion. While it could be the rustling of our plastic bag collection, or various doggies in the building, or even the outside NY noise---I can't help but imagine one day running to the kitchen window to catch a glimpse of a shiny brontosaurus in the courtyard outside. Just kidding, I don't have a courtyard. BUT, I do hear dinosaur roars. Frequently.

Wow, I mean, generally dinosaurs can arouse in me some sort of amusement, but that picture really just takes the cake. What the FUCK is that? A sock puppet-osaur? An American Girl doll for lochness monsters? Amazing.

The things I would do for a bag of dark chocolate chips right now. You hear me? I said, the things. I. would. do.

In other ridiculous news, I sprained my middle finger from blowing my nose so much. I wish I was kidding. Again, you just cannot make these things up.

I have no more things of substance to talk about. Yes, everything mentioned above was substantial. About as substantial as Cheerios, and those are very . . . grainy. Too bad Jordon didn't open her box of Cheerios yet, because then I could sneak some before bedtime. Jordon, I hope you are not reading this. Go to bed.

I have to go blow my nose and worry about irrational fears before I fall asleep. UNT.