A Legal Alien

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24 July 2005

It's 1:35am and I am still awake. At least it's not 3:30 and there's baseball on TV. I'm feeling really wound the last few days. Just sitting here, I'm glad I have my nightguard in because I'm clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth. I have absolutely no reason to be this cranky. I have a full plate right now and it's eating away at me. Combine all the other things going on in London right now and it feels like I'll never get a handle on it all.

The worst part about watching American sports here is the LAME broadcasters they go to in the studio during US commercial breaks. Because sporting events are like constantly interrupted with advertising, these guys are ALWAYS ON. One of them is an American and he reminds me of Mark, only better looking and with a voice that isn't annoying. He never looks at the camera though and so it seems like he doesn't give a crap what anyone beyond the studio thinks. It's weird. I do love listening to Jon Miller though. He's the baseball version of John Madden, like eating a piece of warm apple crisp at my grandma's... comforting. Damn. Now I'm hungry for apple crisp and vanilla ice cream.

Night time is always hard for me. The later into the night it goes, the worse I feel about myself. By the time it's bedtime, I've got a sea of insanity running through my head. Everything and everyone gets on my nerves right now. I didn't even speak to Frank today. I was afraid I'd either start bawling or yell at him for something stupid and unimportant.

One thing I'll never get used to here... porn on TV late at night, for free. On every channel. Profanity and nudity doesn't faze me anymore but the adverts for phone sex lines and shows like "BabeCastXXX" will never make sense to me. Maybe if I had a penis, it would.

For Paul Barrett

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