I’m a sad sick man.

I was up until well after midnight doing live play by play in our WrestleMania Chat room. We had a good crowd and I hadn’t done play by play in a chat room in quite a long time. I forgot how exhausting it is.

Played a little simgolf before bed … that’s what did it. Damn that game, damn it.

I started having a mix of live action and video game dreams. I was back at my old college and it was finals week. I really did have golf in gym class back in college and I had just finished that final. I went back to the student center to play some video games. Stef, of all people, approached me and asked how my final went. I said okay then she suggested making the drive down to see the Agusta National Championships in golf. We went upstairs to the giant TV (which used to be on soaps most of the day), and watched simgolf footage of the championships.

Then she called me a weenie because I didn’t make the drive. She started to leave and I followed her. Next thing I know we’re driving there. She wanted to protest because women aren’t allowed to be members there. I just wanted to stop these images of simgolf in my head. So we’re driving and I wake up. I really have to go to the bathroom in real life. So I sneak to the bathroom (avoiding the cat waiting for early food at my door). I walk back to bed, close my eyes, and I’m right back in the dream.

God help me.

Simgolf. Simgolf. Simgolf.

Plus too much junk food.

Plus working too late.

Plus I’m screwed up in the first place.

= Damn, I’m still Simgolf’s bitch.

Help me.

Someone get me an excorcist.