Well, I guess that Im writing this on a program that does not mean Microsoft word, and if you know what this means for a
writer, well you really, if you care, have to think about your grammar and punctuation and spelling as you ramble on, so as
to prevent going back and correcting every damn thing. Anyhow, I want to talk about the night stand. Haha. I know. Totally
and completely irrelevant and kind of an afterthought to the end of your day, maybe a minuscule forethought to the first of
your day as you shut off an ever present and taunting alarm, but really, does anyone know the nature, burden, love, and
meaning of the nightstand? Laughs, well here's my little short tidbit of our everlasting friend, the nightstand. Im really not
interested in divulging what sex this nightstand embodies for the particular person reading this article, so please bare with
me as i may switch back and forth between he's and she's. The nightstand is the pervert's butler for a buffet of lubrication.
The alcoholic's bartender, as well as his nanny in the morning, with water and aspirin. He's the catlady's perch for her
needle and thread, for the way too many pillows she's been knitting, crocheting, whatever. The nightstand is the business
woman's desk away from the office. She's the bearer of bad news for every heart broken soul, as she supports that shitty
device we allow, the cell phone, when it proceeds to not ring or light up, or worse, when it does, merely talking shit we
don't want to hear. She's the stoner's comfort zone, acting as the innkeeper for his bong, and the morning staff for his
wake'n'bake, look to the side and she'll provide. She's the insomniac's support system, remote control:she's got it, cell: that
too, water: check, magazine: yup. She's the security blanket for the kid who can't sleep, best night light in the house, right
on that nightstand, sleep tight little baby. She's the 24 hour kitchen for the hungry in the night chunky monkeys. She's the
bitch that belongs to the wake you up team, supporting that obnoxious alarm of yours, hey, you set it. He's where that hot
girl left her earrings and cell phone number from the night before, without him, where would those things have gone?
really though? She might have some drawers .. shit.. now we're talking .. she's got condoms and blow now? I'm in. Maybe
a flask. OK keep it real, she's got Highlights for kids, and next-door she's got national geographic. Damn, do you stands
keep in touch with those creepy dudes that try to make sales on magazines all the time? just saying. She's got some of the
most sentimental things ever, his photo, her photo, kids' photos, right on top, take a freaking look before and after you
sleep so you remember why you shouldn't fuck up. That card he sent you when he was being a dick, along with the flowers
.. how bout not having a reason to send the damn flowers? anyway. The reason you stay healthy is because you keep
your vitamins and medication whatever you take, on that nightstand, wow now he's a pharmacist? Your health is your
wealth, above all. So, let's give it up for the nightstand. Hats off to you my dear friend. Thanks for the support.
