Sometimes, when I am using a mechanical pencil, I like to extend the lead to a dangerous length.

I like to write with it when it is fragile; when I really have to try to be cautious, compose my characters carefully, trace each letter with unnerving diligence and precision.

I like to make it teeter on the brink of breakage, and I like to dare it to snap.

Basically, I like to live on the edge.

So it's Saturday night, 11 pm.

I'm in my pajamas, in bed with my laptop, downloading the new Backstreet Boys song and watching a Kelly Clarkson video. And for the love of god, I'm almost liking it.

My night COULD be more pathetic, but I'm having a very difficult time figuring out exactly how.

Once, I watched an episode of a 'CAN YOU BELIEVE IT??' television show. You know, those television shows that demonstrate the amazing, incredible, UNBELIEVABLE abilities of common people?

That particular episode featured a Chinese family who was supposedly magnetic (because Chinese people do crazy shit like that). To demonstrate this strange, disturbing, UNBELIEVABLE "talent", the host placed spoons delicately on the stomach of each member, and lo and behold, the spoons stayed!

I wonder if they used glue. And if so, what kind of glue did they use?

I wake up to the grotesque sound of the local Top 40 station's morning show. I mutter to myself.

I use the local Top 40 station as my alarm because it is the only one that can cause me to rise from the unparalleled marvelousness of my bed.
Yes, I hate the morning show that much.

The frustrating music. The uninteresting banter of the hosts. The ridiculous clamor of pots and whistles in an attempt to make said banter more interesting, except that it is entirely unnecessary because it is just that dismal. All of this is paramount to my intense disdain. The disdain leads to the exit of my marvelous bed.

I wake up to the grotesque sound of the local Top 40 station's morning show. I mutter to myself:
"This is the sound of school."