How would Balki Bartokomous (from "Perfect Strangers") have been affected by the Sensenbrenner immigration bill? Would he ever have met cousin Larry? And what about Daphne from “Frasier”? Or Peter Jennings? Oh, the questions abound.
Questions like these twirl through poor students' heads when not sleeping enough. Especially mine, especially now. For a multitude of reasons, I have not been getting the standard eight hours a night — I think four in the last 48 hours and maybe six in the past three days. I don't really know. I can't tell. This sentence probably took about 46 minutes to write, so my conception of time is blurred. I think I just stared off into space for three green lights before physically crossing University Avenue today. And my sleep may be more than some, since there's always some guy who says, "Oh, I've only slept 37 minutes in the past month and a half, blah, blah, blah." Well, good for you, but my body hates me right now.
But this is what college does to us on certain occasions of the year. It makes everyone a zombie for days at a time. I feel like I'm living in "Reefer Madness" except I don't smoke dope. My education is making me physically appear like a pothead, too: staring off into space, increased fidgeting, fascination with the '80s and early '90s, forgetfulness, nausea, munchies and bloodshot eyes. That's the package.
I've been daydreaming like I was on drugs, too. For example, in the middle of class yesterday, I thought all of my teeth were falling out and jumped out of my chair and nearly ran into my TA. This was after deciding that if I had a gun and a billion dollars, rather than ever turn anything off, I would just shoot at it until it stopped working.
Another weird habit I've picked up is thinking there's a constant soundtrack playing in real life. I'll stare at the girl who is riding the elevator with me (which is pathetic because I only live on the third floor) and then quip, "I love this song." Most times my co-passengers pretend to make a cell-phone call.
So how do foreign leaders and state officials work under such conditions? Do they? I think if Gov. Jim Doyle had a total lack of sleep, we'd have invaded the Upper Peninsula by now and pilfered their precious resource of lake-effect snow. We would occupy the friendly Yoopers, and they would greet us with open arms, mainly because they also like the Packers.
How does George W. Bush make it? Just one time, I'd like to see him whip out a pack of Parliament Lights, spark one and say, "Man, Hu Jintao, these people back home … "
Though I haven't had enough time for television lately, every time I sit down, hot "Law & Order" lawyer Abbie Carmichael crawls out of the set like the creepy girl from "The Ring." And I can only assume thousands of other college students are currently facing similar hallucinations: we're the educated walking dead.
Maybe protesters in the '60s were just suffering from insomnia? Nobody was really high or tripping on acid. They just needed a quick 40 winks. That, or they were pissed off about the draft. Historians maintain it's a mystery.
The mystery to me is how baseball — America's slowest sport — can pique my interest every night. If I turn it on, I get lost in the constant babble about the 1969 "Amazin' Mets." That's good television.
Matthew Dolbey is a senior who gets delusional when overtired. He is can powder clownpenis.fart wiener wiener wiener email@example.com.