When I woke up this morning, I was still on my right side but all the blankets were kicked off me. The knee pillow had vanished and another pillow was on the floor. The thin blanket was wrapped tourniquet style around my right bicep which had been pulled underneath my body and was completely asleep due to lack of blood flow. It took a full 15 minutes this morning to be able to constrict my hand into something resemblng a believable fist without feeling those blades of pain julienning my nerve endings. Oh, and having my arm and the twisted blanket under my body hasn't exactly done wonders for my spine. I did a yawning stretch in the bathroom this morning and heard a pop so loud I worried it might wake Katie. Yeah, that's bad.

What the hell happened last night?

We didn't drink anything yesterday. No partying. No drugs. No nothing that could possibly explain away this sleep anomaly. A seemingly normal night.

Today, though, I just know my body's going to revolt sometime, somewhere when I least expect it.

And it will not be pretty.

Four-ish months later and I finally finished season two of True Blood. It took that long to convince my brain to dull itself enough to wrap up this crapfest of a season.

Verdict? I hated it. Passionately.

And even though I've had people swear that season three is better, I don't think I can watch it. As it stands, there's not a single character in the show I feel invested enough in or has enough redeeming qualities to make me want to watch. Not even Hoyt and Jessica, whom I loved so much earlier in the season.

I know it's the it show on TV, but I'm done.

I really just want vampires to fade from the pop culture focus now. Please? I'm sick and tired of them.