3:02 AM Epilogue...

For those that emailed about my 3:02AM post.

 Friday night I was "unsupervised".  Translation, "left alone to my own devices". It doesn't happen often. I grabbeed an adult beverage or two, spent some time blogging,  posting  Friday Femme Fatale, reading my blog list and went to bed early.

It was about 3:00 am that Mr Brain decided to chat.  On Average I get between 6-7 hours of sleep so 3:00 AM was in vicinity of  normal sleep length, albeit early.

Rewind to the work day:

During the day I was talking to one of my employees about randomness of life and brought up the whole parent , grand parent, great grand parent... etc and how random it is the we are conceived in a specific moment in time that is solely based on all our ancestors conceptional timing through all the generations previous. What if the man or woman that was my ( what ever number of Great) Grandparent in the Bronze age had been killed?

 (The years of the Irish Bronze age are 2500 BC to 500BC.)  

 I wouldn't be here.

 In the background of the rest of the day the gears must have been turning behind the scenes.

 Suddenly, at "zero dark-the fuck am I awake time of day" I got the question.

You know the feeling as you rise from deep sleep to that voice in your head questioning something that then wakes up all the other participants. Well , it wanted to know how many ancestors there were.

I wrote that "3:02 AM" post pretty much as it happened in all honesty. The brain started discussing the math before my eyes were open. I spilled my water. opened the phone. Contemplated jumping the boss ( most likely I would be writing this from a hospital bed if it had gone that way)  Got up to take a leak and decided at 3:45 or so to have coffee. :)

I had to regroup my thoughts on the timeline so I could write them down and I was laughing as I editted and posted the story. 

Thanks for enjoying.

Irish.

Here is one more classic from John Fogerty before turning in and it is a "goodun" (great scenery)

The Impeachment...

Greenhorn Saves Concrete Bag From Ripping Open....

CCR: "Sweet Hitchhiker"

                            If you seen it before, you'll watch it again. If you haven't seen it, enjoy.

Answering the wee hour questions... "How many unique ancestors do you have?"

3:02 AM

Subconscious: “Psst... You awake?”

Conscious, grumbling: “ I guess I am now”

“Ya know, I was thinking........”

“No shit, maybe you should fucking be sleeping”

“ Wait, hear me out, How many great grandparents would you have if you went back say 1000 or more years?”

“Are you fucking serious?” a different subconscious silently curses Northeastern University's Engineering Dept, “that's what your thinking about?” 

Then, Conscious makes a foggy mistake.

“What time is IT!?”

The Ghost of Steve Jobs smirks an evil smirk: “Grab your iphone and check”

Before anyone can stop him, Hand, like a golden retriever puppy, lurches out, and knocks over the water bottle.

“Shit!” says Conscious

Hand fumbles on nightstand still half asleep.....

Eyes: “NOOO, don't look at the , AHHHHHH...” White laser light blasts the retinas.

“What the fuck! It's 3:02 am! Put the phone down!” Conscious yells.

Hand, like a typical teen getting reprimanded, puts the phone down “What? I was just checking it for a second, you're always yelling at me”

“Shut up hand, go adjust Scrotum, he's stuck to Thigh”

Kidney chimes in sounding like he's drowning: “Excuse me, I gotta go pee”

Morning Wood resting firmly against his favorite buttocky pillow: “Not till I'm done”

“Is she sleeping?”  Conscious asks, suddenly oblvious to everything else.

Ear, metaphorically rolling his eyes “You can't hear that snoring?”

“What ssssnoring?” Morning wood says, sounding like a snake offering Conscious an apple.

“Listen you two, I gotta go, like now.” says Kidney with authority.

Shoulder: “Hey I'm cold, Hand, would you grab the covers?”

Hand, who all through this has been giving a good massage, reluctantly releases the Testicle Twins and obliges.

 

Subconscious “Hey, What if we went back to 3000 years? Man, that's an exponential shit load of great grandparents we might need a ….

Sphincter, Coughs.

There is a pregnant silence.

Nose: “Seriously dude? Have you been eating off the racoon's truck in the Geico commercial?”

Everyone giggles.

Subconscious: “ Those commercials are pretty funny! I wonder how much.....”

He's cut off by Conscious “Shut. Up.”

Kidney:”Hey, Morning Wood has left his post. Let's go”

Feet, acting like a toddler's first step, search for Slippers.

Morning wood, blocked by kidney, shouts: "Hey, if we knock over the water bottle again, maybe we can get her to stir?"

"We can't see!" feet interrupts.

Hand shoots for the iphone. 

Steve Job's Ghost snickers.

As conscious heads to the bathroom with everyone in tow, he sees Coffee Pot in the glow of the night light.

She's seductively sitting on the counter like a Colombian hooker. Beckoning.

Subconscious: “Hey, where's the calculator?........”

Friday Femme Fatale....