The Retarded Side of the Bed

Shut up, I don't wanna hear how Un-PC the word "retarded" is. This is my Imperial Kingdom, and if I, the Sole Monarch of this sexy kingdom, wanna say "Retarded", then I shall. For I have mandated it, and it shall be so. Yeah, I didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I woke up on the "SLOW" side. Now hear this: The Cramps (boooo) are scientifically proven (since right now) to render your brain useless. ~Imperial Kingdom Scientific Committee for the Eradication of Cramps and its Minions. Man, okay. Let's start at the beginning. I woke up and forgot what time I go to work. I knew it was somewhere between 7:30 and 8:30. I woke up at 7:00, and couldn't decide. So I went back to sleep. And subsequently overslept. Then I forgot I had a job altogether, and slept until 8:10. My baby chirped me at 8:10 like, "Babe, are you going to work? I still see your car". Now usually I hit him up first when he gets off work at 5 a.m., but not today. I then proceed to forget who he was, and go BACK TO SLEEP. The only thing that saved me was my momma. She called to ask Jr when his vacation ends. She's like, "Pooh, you're still home?" At this point I realized that I did indeed have somewhere to go. So I take a shower (even though I'm already doomed to be late) and decide, "Hm. I'm hungry. Lemme eat." Aiight, TMI moment. Due to reasons I don't want to disclose I don't eat dairy shit for breakfast. I can't eat stuff like cookies because it makes me sick, and so does our friend Dairy Shit. So you can see where this is going. I walked all slow into the kitchen like I had hella time. Got a damn bagel and some CREAM CHEESE. Someone shoulda sniped me for that. Alas, no one was around with a rifle. Because they let me make it, walk to my car with it, and eat it on the way to work. Jammin like it was good, listening to my Above the Rim soundtrack. I swear thats the soundtrack of the best year of my life, LOL. Anyway, good thing I work close. Because when I got there I headed straight for the bathroom. Steph, I feel you on #3 girl, LMAO. This is how I know I'm temporarily retarded. I'm in the bathroom and I start praying. Praying! Like, "Lord, you know I have a lot of work and I can't be up in here all morning. So make me feel better. Amen." I guess my slow ass mind wanted to take it one further because for some reason I was like, "Man, I don't wanna die in here!" Now why in the hell would I check out in the damn bathroom? I'm telling you, retarded side of the bed. So somehow, Jesus mercifully frees me from the clutches of the cream cheese fiasco, and I go back into the lab. Do I work? Hell naw. I pleaded for my life with the Almighty so I could come in here... and blog. Once again, temporary retardation. I know I should be working. I'm gonna press for a movement that classifies cramps as temporary insanity. Although it has to be Neighborhood Queen (reigning supreme) level cramps. I mean, you'd better have to take a cocktail of prescription drugs laced with some over the counters to diffuse that shit just like me. Because I am not in my right mind. Someone stole my right mind. And I am now demanding it back. I will pay a super ransom to anyone who returns my mind. Thanks. Mandate for today... uh... send me some cramp medicine, and some Big Red Soda with a side of macaroni and cheese. And you will all be spared my wrath. That is all.