I'm an idiot. No, really. I admit it freely.

I have had three hours sleep. This is partly because I'm an idiot. Here's why: Darth Vato played a dismal set in Denton last night. Denton is a funny city where all the cool music is supposed to have come from since around 5,000 B.C. I don't know--the only band from Denton that I've ever paid attention to is the Riverboat Gamblers, and I don't even like them that much. It has this gritty-looking, fairly liberal state university (University of North Texas), relatively famous for its music program. A lot of dudes with glasses and beards go to this school. They're all in bands, a lot of which are "interesting," which really means they are terrible. When someone raves about the latest noise-rock band from Denton, I automatically assume it's a matter of The Emperor's New Clothes.

Anyway, we get paid to play in Denton at this bar, and usually it's fun. Last night the crowd dwindled to tumbleweeds, and frankly, I would have rather stayed at home playing video games. I don't know why that show sucked. Kerry had to be in a meeting early this morning, so I got stuck settling money, and after receiving the check, I headed out. This was around 2;15.

Before I continue to the part where I'm exhausted because I'm an idiot, I need to explain how easily I get lost. You may have noticed that my blog alias implies an interest in pirates, and this might lead you to believe that I have a similar enthusiasm for maps. I do, in fact, love maps. But I get turned around really easily. One time, it took me four hours to get from San Francisco to Lodi, a trip that normally only takes about 90 minutes. Bottom line, I'm terrible with directions, and as such, I departed Denton on the wrong fork of I-35.

Now I-35E intersects I-30, which would have taken me home, but it intersects it at Dallas, which is around 30 miles from Fort Worth. Realizing that the ETA to my bed would now be 30 minutes later, I sought a way to cross over to I-35W. For no reason at all, I chose to drive through Lewisville, a suburb which I have never visited. In fact, there are only two things I know about Lewisville: a person who works at my company lives there and so do firemen who date TCU girls. And really, this latter fact is merely an assumption based upon a girl I knew 8 years ago. So really, I know nothing about Lewisville, least of all its relationship to I-35W, which, it turns out, is completely estranged.

Eventually, I ended up on the North of end of state highway 121. During the day, 121 is the parking lot that threads through a post-apocalyptic wasteland of chain restaurants and mega-car lots, but at 3 am, it's not too bad.

Around 4, I rolled into my apartment. You'd think that this ordeal would have compelled me to go to bed and forget the whole thing, but you'd be wrong. Recall first that I am an idiot. If the gallumphing narrative above does not adequately prove my assertion, then consider the following piece of information: when my ass dragged into my apartment this morning, I did not go directly to bed. Instead, I plopped into my couch,and played Xbox for another hour and fifteen minutes. So, rather than ardently chasing every minute of sleep between my arrival and my alarm's strident beeping, I chose instead to stay up even later making potions.

Now do you believe me?

--The Robo-Pirate