Don’t you hate it when you wake up at 2:45am after a nightmare in which some invisible assailant is trying to kill you with a bow and arrow, and you are trying to defend yourself with a pool cue? And tens of minutes after you’ve forgotten about the dream, you’re still fully awake, feeling all tense and weird? And you get off your high horse and pop one of those legally obtained, prescription anti-anxiety pills provided by Big Pharma via its drug dealing proxy, your physician, and thus join the ever-swelling ranks of the pitiful bourgeois neurotics too lame to just drink and street-drug their way out of their malaises? And the next day you sit around blathering on about it in your fucking blog?
Actually I don’t mind it all that much, I find it rather entertaining.