What is this sleep you speak of?

It's 3:33 in the morning and my only companions are an empty pizza box and a jug of tap water.

What do I have to say for myself?

Well, I regret drinking that large three shot non-fat caramel machiatto, that's for sure.

And I suppose I regret eating half a pizza at 2:30 in the morning. No no, never mind, I don't regret the pizza. It tasted good and who cares if my belly is hanging over the elastic in my sweatpants a little. The beauty of the matter is that it will disappear when I stand up, ok maybe not completely disappear but it will drastically shrink in size, like I splashed cold water on it. That was unintentionally inappropriate. I can't be blamed for any words that leak out of my fingertips at this point in time.

It's now 3:36 in the morning and I've left an absurd amount of incoherent videos and cryptic messages on countless victims facebook walls. My tag name is Bivouacked Insomniac.

I have to drive to the airport in approximately 45 minutes. So that means I have 45 more minutes to while away, whilst making no sense, and smelling like day old pizza crust.

I haven't showered in almost three days and I haven't shaved my legs since I found my runaway razor in the small pocket of my 7 yr old Jansport backpack. It's been awhile.

I feel dirty and I think it has to do with more than my lack of showering. I think it might have to do with the linens I'm lying in. They're no longer sheets. They've been enveloped by dog hair, which means they've become more like some sort of creepy rug sent to render me restless.

Which is why I'm still awake at 3:43 in the morning.

I hope airport security doesn't deny me entry due to my eau de canadian bacon, or my newly dawned transient style hairdo, or my overall frumpy floppy lack of femininity.

Because that would be quite unfortunate.

I guess I'll go brush my hair, and try to get the pineapple chunks out from between my teeth. I must say, Hernando's pizza did me well, but as my mind plays tricks on me, so does that pizza play tricks on my bowels.

I hope you've enjoyed reading the raucous carousals of The Bivouacked Insomniac.

Chip chip cheerio. G'day fair maidens and men.