The Fap and Nap

I have a problem.  Well, it seems like a problem and in the scheme of keeping my job, it’s  a problem, but otherwise it’s nothing. It’s fairly insignificant to the average person walking down the street.  It means nothing to the girls in short skirts and UGGs with high pitched voices.  I would even wager it means nothing to my dog, though he is the number one partner of mine.  If as a person, I am the the average of the five people I hang out with the most, then I am half dog.  In fact, I miss my dog whenever I leave the house.  I feel bad when I warm up on the treadmill because that is time I could be running him senseless.  Or taking him to the dog park so he can sniff around and growl at other dogs.

He’s not misbehaved.  He’s a good ol chap.  The spry little fucker comes with a knee jerk reaction to other canines where he growls at them if they try to sniff his ass.  Of course after they back off, he runs right up to them to sniff their ass.  I guess he’s playing hard to get.  Can you see how delusional I am?  I started this with I have a fucking problem, and now I am talking about my dog.  My dog is good people.   I get out of bed for the little fellow.     He’s actually not all that small, in fact, for his breed he is rather large.

My dog is not my problem. My problem is two fold.  As I mentioned before, I have obstructive sleep apnea.  Basically I’m choking the life out of myself one night at a time.  I thought that losing weight would make a difference, but the doctor says differently.  He says it will help, but might not eliminate the problem.  Apparently there are 4 types of mouth / throats depending on the amount of tissue involved.  I’m a 4.  They want me to wear a chinstrap and put things in my nose in order to take the choke hold off my sleep schedule.  Fuck that shit.  I sleep in a chair when I really need it.

Hey baby want to spoon?

This inability to breathe while I sleep has lead to some issues.  Fewer wet dreams, snores like the foghorn on the coast, day time zombie like drowsiness, no energy when I get home, nodding off at work without the help of some opoids, and sleeping through my alarm.  I hate sleeping through my alarm with an extreme passion.  I don’t even think I sleep through it.  In a half conscious stupor, I swipe it off, and cancel the snooze.  Lights out.  On a plus side, this condition has given me the super-hero-like ability to fall asleep ANYWHERE.

On top of that, I have been blessed with a god like ability to drink alcohol.  I can drink like a motherfucking fish.  It doesn’t matter what it is, I can grab the devil by the horn, align all the booze with my gullet, and let the good times roll without waking up with a disastrous hangover.  I actually remember the last time I had a hang over, and that was over 6 years ago after a particularly savage night in San Francisco:  waking up in the morning dry as the Sahara, brain pounding like some retarded dub-step concert, driving my red truck to the Wing Lee bakery on Clement, then driving another two hours back to my solitary station in the boonies.

This ability to drink and not suffer repercussions is peculiar and is not all good times and good drinks.  Basically, I can put them away for hours on end.  However, there is a threshold that is reached once a certain amount of libations have been imbibed.  After which, there are diminishing returns on what I’m putting into the system.  My friend Cindy says it happens around 4am. That’s where the belligerence starts coming into play.  Can you blame me?  By then I’ve probably consumed about a 5th of Bourbon and 2-6 beers, possibly more.

I’m fine with that, and even though I have shit for self control, I take after my father in that I am a jovial drunk.  Much like him, I also have a tendency towards in-coherency by the end of the night.  But I love that feel of cold liquid entering the stomach.  Instantaneous rewards in a rocks glass.  Fuck yes.  However, this gets in my way when compounded with the sleep apnea, and multiplied by the fact that I have to be at work in the morning.  Since I am able to imbibe such hazardous amounts and I am in a cage match with death each time I sleep, I tend to drink into the wee hours of the next morning before passing out.  Guess what happens then?

I don’t fucking wake up in time.

This isn’t an everyday thing, but it happens often enough.  I don’t drink after I work out because that would be detrimental to the agonizing efforts I am going through at the gym.  However, even on sober ass gym days, I am still sleeping past the time the leash gets put on and I head to the kennel.

TL:DR:  All star drinker, wheel chair sleeper.

Some fucking guy said “with great power comes great responsibility,”.

This post had nothing to do with fapping.

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5 thoughts on “The Fap and Nap

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