Winken, Blinken, and Michael Jackson?

Three o'clock in the morning
And it looks like it's gonna be another sleepless night
I've been listenin' to your dreams and gettin' very low
Wondering what I can do

Maybe I'm being foolish'
Cause I haven't heard you mention anybody's name at all
How I wish I could be sure it's me that turns you on
Each time you close your eyes
I've heard it said that dreamers never lie

You've been talkin' in your sleep
Sleepin' in your dreams
With some sweet lover
Holdin' on so tight loving her the way
You used to love me
Talkin' in your sleep with lovin' on your mind

"Talkin' In Your Sleep" by Crystal Gayle

I had great difficulty sleeping last night. That is an understatement, as it leads one to believe that I might actually have slept somewhat at some point - which I assure you did not happen. Sure, I snoozed like a 2 glasses of Shiraz baby whilst downstairs on the couch cuddled up with Mr. Berk and, occasionally, the ever-fickle Lucybird Johnson - resident cuddle ho who will gladly burrow down with anyone who will let her stick her tongue into one or both of your nostrils. I accomplished this feat as the second new episode of "The First 48" was illustrating the perils of being in a bad, bad section of Memphis in broad daylight. First I decided that I really do like commercials. So much so, in fact, that I should probably just tuck the remote under the blanket with me and let 'em roll. Next, I decided that the current episode wasn't all that interesting. It was the first one in about a month that didn't take place in South Dallas, or even Garland....so I really needn't study the perps face so I could recognize him if he were to attack me at the .99 food store next week. Before you can say "shot by my baby daddy" I was sawing some serious logs.......until I took my act on the road and stumbled up the stairs into the bed.

Do you ever have nights where your brain is more like a bad, bad computer that won't turn off? Every time I clicked on shut down I seemed to just restart. Over. And over. Faster. And faster. But, before that......first I had to wash my face and brush my teeth...and floss. My claim to fame is that I haven't missed my daily pre-bed floss since August of '08. I was so tired, however, that I decided sleeping in the tshirt du jour was a fine alternative to a nightie. Or pj's. Or even one of Kev's 10 year old super-soft tshirts. So, with wild abandon, I shucked my shorts and jumped beneath the covers....neglecting to don my sleeping panties. That's right - we ladies have specific pantaloons that we wear during the day (Victoria's Secret for some - Wally World's "Secret Treasures" for us po folk) and others that we entrust with our sweet dreams. Suffice it to say that me, sans Granny panties, made for an itchy, albeit bitchy, night. If the Memphis perp had somehow broken in to attack me last night, at least there would have been no visible panty lines beneath the sheets! No? OK - not so funny. Anyway, there I go.....to drift off to sleep. NOT!

First of all, I was thinking of Chynna, of course. I'm always thinking of Chynna. I try to think fun thoughts - silly thoughts - laugh out loud amazingly zany Chynna thoughts nowadays. I did , however, walk in on Kevin earlier Wednesday eve as he was watching "Deadliest Catch", which I profess not to like (I do use my amazing peripheral vision sometimes, though), and caught a snippet of a bio on one of the fishermen whose little sister - the youngest of his 4 sisters - had died from a lengthy illness. Hearing this kid's phone call back to his mom concerning how his sister is finally beautiful and in a place where no one can ever laugh at her again sort of sent me into a tailspin of backpedaling images. Sort of sad. Sort of introspective. So, yeah, my mind was preoccupied with Chinks and the degree to which I miss her so incredibly badly. But, gotta keep it light, right? So I tried thinking of funny things. Like how she recorded her voice on Carter's Blues Clues voice alternator saying "Knock, Knock" only to find that when we slowed it down she sounded exactly like Grandma Marsha! Like how I HATED this one rap song only to put my Ipod on at the grocery store to find that she had both downloaded said loathed song, AND had it paused on said loathed song and on VERY HIGH VOLUME! Like how the boys used to tease her relentlessly for no reason at all about her friend, Shelby Jackson (who was actually a delightful and beautiful young girl). They even made up a song. You sing her name all run together fast (shelbyjackson) and then make a clicking sound on the side of your mouth - then repeat. (shelbyjacksonclick....shelbyjacksonclick....shelbyjacksonclick) That make me think of Michael Jackson, which made me think of his daughter Paris, which made me think of the Louvre, which made me think of the art museum in Houston, which made me think of the beach at Galveston and whether the new Marlow's gift shop will be as neato burrito as the old one......and so on. I remember focusing on how underrated Sherri Shepherd is around 2am. I carried on a nice conversation with my cat, Penelope Cruz, at about 3:30am. I listened to Kevin impersonate all of the 3 stooges with his Forney Philharmonic Snoring quartet at one point. I even mentally redecorated my bedroom twice - once with a Tiffany blue theme and once with 40's vintage wallpaper. It was a very busy night. Then there was the sudden onset hacking cough (me, not Kev). Not a congested cough. Not a phlegmy cough. More like a dry, high-pitched, tiny toddler cough (eck! eck!). I coughed, I wiggled, I repositioned my undergarments, I fought a full 12 rounds with my post-surgical bra that I'm not allowed to remove, I coughed some more, I went downstairs for lemonade.....it was a battle for my sanity. I lost. Still, I'm leaning toward that Tiffany Blue. I wonder if Sherri Shepherd watches "The First 48"? Ya think?