too much time to think
can’t blame it on alcohol
brain is fritzing out
I was falling asleep last night and I found myself in that hazy limbo of awake dreaming. I wasn’t quite asleep because I was consciously thinking about how cool my idea was, and yet I wasn’t quite awake because now I can’t remember much of what was going on, other than a few ridiculous details.
Basically, in my half comatose state I had some kind of brilliant idea for a blog post. It had something to do with a secret Martha Stewart cookbook called the Black Cookbook. This "Black Cookbook" is something akin to the black Amex, though now I can’t remember why I thought it was such a great idea.
Maybe there are only a dozen Martha Stewart black cookbooks around, and these cookbooks have magical recipes in them that will entice super picky children to eat anything. Or maybe it is a cookbook with recipes in it for gold encrusted hamburgers and pearl dust pudding and other outrageously expensive things. Beats me.
I like the idea of a secret cookbook, though. I’ll never be able to qualify for a black amex, so why not a super fancy cookbook?
The thing is, though, I don’t cook anything. I think I have gone just a little bit crazy. And maybe I should not eat my weight in Skittles before I go to bed.