It is a very rare thing that I get enough sleep. Although, to be fair, I don’t think there is any amount of sleep that would get me through an entire work day without wanting to pass out on my keyboard. But that’s because sitting in a windowless room with only a screen to look at for nine hours is bound to make you groggy.
So really, I just try to get enough sleep so that I will be able to get out of bed in the morning. You see, what happens once I actually get to work is not important. But, sadly, The Boyfriend does not understand my schedule, and thinks I should be able to wander into the office anytime I want. Which is why I had to develop some fucking hardcore sleeping abilities.
The Boyfriend has his own business, which means he gets to wake up whenever he pleases – and go to bed at dawn if he so chooses. I, on the other hand, have to be sitting behind a desk at 8:30 a.m. And because he is my boyfriend, he regularly wants me to spend the night (or so I would hope. Otherwise I’ve just been inviting myself over on a regular basis for two years).
Nine times out of ten, this means I have to A) beg him to go to bed at a decent hour, or B) pass out to the sounds of a zombie apocalypse.
The latter has become the norm.
The Boyfriend and his roomie are completely obsessed with Left for Dead – in fact, they are so obsessed and speak of it so frequently, they don’t even say the full title anymore. Nope. They just scream, “LFD!” at each other from across the house. And then run into The Boyfriend’s bedroom. And turn on the Xbox.
If the Xbox weren’t in The Boyfriend’s bedroom, things would be a lot easier. Except it is in his bedroom. And The Boyfriend makes ridiculous kitten noises and sad faces (gross, I know) when I try to leave and go back to the apartment I pay rent to live in to get a goodnight’s sleep. So because I am a complete and total sap, I sit in bed and watch The Boyfriend and his roomie (and sometimes an additional two or three dudes) murder zombies with hatchets and shotguns.
Until four in the morning.
Now, you might be like,
Well, my friends – I suck at Left for Dead. I suck so bad that The Boyfriend has to yell directions at me the whole time, because I’m too busy trying to figure out how not to accidently look at the sky every three seconds. I get hopelessly lost. I’m old school – I like Sega Genesis. Mostly because in those games, there was only one logical direction to move in. And you didn’t have to look up, down, behind you, and in front of you to make sure you didn’t get eaten. Nope, in the Sega Genesis days, all your enemies were visible. Those kinds of games relax me. Left for Dead makes me dizzy (my own fault, because I can’t use the controls properly) and frustrated. I usually just charge into a flock of zombies, shoot as many as I can, and hope to die.
But, sadly, that doesn’t really work – because, for some reason, your teammates can revive you about twenty freaking million times before the game is actually over.
Yes, Left for Dead even makes suicide difficult. Fuck. That.
So, recently, I discovered that I can pass out cold with several people yelling and cussing and shooting zombies in the room. I’m not sure if this is a good thing. Because if the zombie apocalypse for serious fucking went down, I’ll be dead instantly. Because, hell, my subconscious would think everybody was still using the fucking Xbox, but there’d be REAL FUCKING ZOMBIES and unfortunately The Boyfriend does not have any real incendiary ammo or axes in his house. Which makes me wonder, what is all this Left for Dead game play really mean when we are woefully unprepared for the real fucking zombie apocalypse?!!
So while my new sleeping-through-zombie-warfare talents allow me the ability to get up for work, they may ultimately cause my death. And well, I hate my job. But I kind of like being alive because booze, sex, piranhas, and international travel are really bad ass.
So what conclusions can we draw from this?
Well, fucking DUH people.
It’s time for me to quit my job! I’m going to be much too busy learning how to REALLY kill the undead (take that, Xbox people) and when the earth is populated by zombies, I will survive.
And that money I would have had if I had remained employed would be completely useless anyway.
So there.
Dear boss - please consider this my two weeks notice.
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