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Insomnia strikes again. The bastard.

It’s 5:08 am and I can’t sleep. I tried for a bit around 2:30 am but there’s only so much staring at the ceiling one can do before it’s time to change tactics.

I contemplated trying to give myself a concussion, but then realized that might not be the best plan. Because if I hit my head too hard it would be a few days before anyone found me. And Ramona isn’t exactly my biggest fan. That cat would start to eat me even before I was dead.

Little vulture.

As the RNC looms on the horizon (or just over the horizon and to the right, if you look out my apartment window) there’s all sorts of speculation on who will be McCain’s runningmate.

I’m actually going to the RNC next week to watch the speeches. And by “going to the RNC” I mean going to a restaurant near the convention center. And by “watch the speeches” I mean watch the bedlam that will hopefully ensue. I’ll be bringing a bandana along in case there’s tear gas or I’m feeling particularly jaunty.