Who's an ass?

Who, you ask?

Wait. You didn't ask.

In case anyone doesn't have one of their own or would like to know...

I know a real ass.

Get your butt-rock on

Damn, my laptop is slow.

In other news: Whoever created Guitar Hero needs to be slapped.

Clearly, those of us with less than stellar-butt-rock knowledge have a disadvantage than those of us who have husbands who can name the band and name of the song on the radio within the first three notes made.

I played the only two songs I was familiar with last night. Anarchy in the UK--Sex Pistols...and Holiday in Cambodia--Dead Kennedys.

I felt good about it too.

I even did some pogo-ing with the guitar. Pogo-ing did not help me play the guitar any better.

In sickie news, I am noting the concoction in what it takes for me to get a somewhat decent nights sleep:

One warm glass of Airborne
One glass of wine
One extra-strength Mucinex
One dose of Antihistamine
One fourth of a muscle relaxer

Okay, it sounds a little too much and somewhat troublesome.

Here is my reasoning. (The beginning of dependancy?)

I can not take anything cough-suppressant-related due to my anti-anxiety medicine.
I can't wear my mouthguard to protect my poor teeth from the clenching..because it makes my tounge go in a place which, I guess, induces extra coughing. So, that is why the muscle relaxer is involved, so I can clench less and not wake up with my entire jaw line...top and bottom..feeling like it just went through hours of Jaw Olympics.

I must be such a pretty sight to my husband. (what a catch I am)