The Random Ramblings of a Sleepless Maverick

Well, Readers, I am staring dumbfounded at this blank page. In between the last presidential debate and wrapping my mind around that bitchy know-it-all Kenley somehow making it to the Project Runway finale, I just can't seem to compose a full thought. But, you know I am dedicated to your entertainment, Readers, so I thought I would jot down a few of my fragmented brain drizzle.

I love negative ads. It's just political shit talking. Is it true? Unlikely. Is it fun? Hell yes. So, listen up, boys: Why don't you come run some of those nasty tidbits on mommalittle. I won't player hate, I'll participate. Word.

That brings me to another. I love hip hop jargon. I've been trying to introduce it into my daily life, but thus far it has been unsuccessful.

I really like drinking coffee in the late evening. That is, until I'm laying in bed wide awake as a crackhead on a 3 day smoke feast.

Ridge snuck into Rolan's room and interrupted his peaceful nap this afternoon by shimmying into his crib and then subsequently pouncing on his little brother's head while chanting, "Wake up, Rolan!"
Rolan, in turn, spent the afternoon randomly jabbing his big brother in the eye for the torturous awakening. With each incident, rather than responsibly disciplining my offspring, I just thought, "Man, I'm so glad my sons are mavericks."

Speaking of swaggering with the big balls of a maverick, Ridge and I build some wooden car inside the house today and then proceeded to paint it on the kitchen table. He seriously had slaps of blue paint in his ears.

I am exhausted. I am so freakin' exhausted that I cannot sleep. Such is the divine comedy of life.

There are several ways to show your patriotism. One of them just happens to be paying taxes. God knows I pay my share, but I love America and don't want to further become a "sharecropper nation," as Warren Buffet described the negative effect of our expanding foreign held debt.

I love Kenny G. I mean, I really love Kenny G. He played on Dirty Sexy Money last week and my long, lost love affair was reignited. Few things get my blood pumping like that long-haired genius blowing away on his saxophone.

I think blue eyeliner rocks. I wore it daily for many years, using it for some reason on only the outer halves of each eye, which made it rock even harder. After much badgering from my more fashion savvy friends, I begrudgingly abandoned my aqua beauty trick. I'm really thinking about bringing it back. What do you think?

P-R-O-C-R-A-S-T-I-N-A-T-I-O-N. That's just how I roll. In fact, I think it is fair to say that's what I am doing right now. So, I'm gonna stop. I'm going to force myself to sleep so I won't drag around like a zombie tomorrow.