I've been surviving on caffeine all day today.

[Prisoner_Number_Six]

Coffee in the morning, Mr. Pibb in the afternoon, and more coffee in the evening. Nothing to eat all day but a VERY small salad.

I'm hungry, dammit.

AND buzzed.

Think I'll have some popcorn!

[autorank]

1. You can always eat NoDoze

:shrug:

[Cha]

3. LOL!

Crack me up!

[Prisoner_Number_Six]

4. Thanks, but my Ultram keeps me up all night anyway.

AND buzzed. :evilgrin:

[autorank]

7. You've gotta watch that one...

...friend of mine had a big reaction out of no where, freaky. But joint pain is serious so, hey if it helps AND it's a buzz, well, how can it be wrong?

[Cha]

2. Good luck sleeping or

are you one of those people who isn't affected by lack of sleep with so much caffiene?

[Prisoner_Number_Six]

To sleep, perchance to dream....

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

(I was just gonna excerpt from it, but I decided what the heck.)

[Cha]

6. I think I have my

answer!

[sundog]

5. i do that often

and always feel sick at the end of the day x(