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My sleeping pattern cannot be broken. Case in point: last night we went to the Crack Whore Ball (a little Decadence warm-up party thrown by the kinky Krewe de Qui Tu Connais) and kikied and carried on ’till almost 1am and finally came home and watched a little boob-tube and I should be exhausted, but now, less than six hours later, I’m bright eyed and bushy tailed (though I’m always kinda bushy, you know). Basically, I wanna sleep, but I can’t. My father insists it’s a sign of getting older. Hmph.