Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Programmed to Snooze

Insomnia.

You know the worst thing about it? Not the laying awake at 3am with the song going around in your head, or the one blessed thought cycling around. And for that matter, it's never a pleasant thought, like being trapped on a desert island with Ryan Reynolds and Ben Browder, and they're all like 'So who's the hot guy with the beard and the tasteful line in Abercrombe beachwear? For we are now gay after that hit on the head when our catamaran capsized.' And I'm all 'Please! Guys! You'll damage my new Dior belt if you both go at me like that - let's do it one at a time. At least until I get used to the idea because I do have a boyfriend back home - who will never find anyone else because I would kill him - and besides, Ben can start on our shelter, which will have a sundeck, games room and garbage disposal.' I tell you, if that thought also included free gym membership and a ticket to the Island's Oscars, I may never come around.

No, the worst thing about having insomnia is rolling up at your work, looking like shite. And when asked what the problem is, you say that you didn't get any sleep last night.and then they go 'Oh really? Oh, I slept like a baby last night! All the way through!'

Fuckers.

Frankly, that's just cruel. It's like going up to that pig-ugly girl in the office who's barely keeping it together and saying 'You're still a virgin? Good god, I've had fifteen men up me in the last week alone! I tell you, I can't even sit down on a bar stool in case I just simply slide right down the length of it!'

And, though appreciated, don't come to me with 'cures' in the suggestions box - I've tried everything. Drink, sex, drugs, breathing exercises and whale song - I've tried them all. And on one occasion, all together; it was like I was a flaky secretary conceiving and giving birth all condensed down in three hours.

Although my latest stab at sleep is hypnosis, thanks to my good friend Jonathan. Now I've been hypnotised a few times, once to be regressed, and once to remember Balthazar Getty's phone number (I saw him once writing it on a napkin for a fan). Not because I wanted a date, just drop him a voice mail to sort out that bizarre eyebrow of his. But anyway, back to the story: Jonathan took me under and started all the neuro-linguistic programming that I'd need to drop off at night, talking me down some imaginary steps to the bottom, where upon I would fall asleep. On the way down, he told me to imagine a sleep hat that I could place on my head and instantly feel tired. All well and good; but you know me and hats. As soon as I imagined a lovely hat in my hands, it was a glorious three-foot number in red taffeta with a bird cage, sparkles and fireworks ready to go off any moment. My first thought was 'I can't sleep in this..!' clearly defeating the object.

But anyway! The whole hypnosis thing seems to be working. I can now get back to sleep a heck of a lot faster than before, though I do still wake up every few hours. It's just unfortunate that he's tied the sleep-trigger to the image of me going downstairs - I ran down the escalators to the Tube this morning, and passed out into someone's trio of Samsonites.

Still, it killed an hour...

10 comments:

Qenny said...

Dangerous thing, dropping off when going downstairs. Just think. Steps might reform, but they'd send you to sleep.

Snooze said...

I love the image of your sleep hat, but yes, I can see how that wouldn't be conducive to slumber.

Owen Blacker said...

I'm not sure what's better, you using the phrase "neuro-linguistic programming" (there's nothing hotter than an attractive intelligent guy!) or the mental image of your insomnia-encouraging "sleep hat".

We love you. Don't ever change ;o)

Alice said...

fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!

I laughed so hard, I shit myself. Of course, I also have a case of the runs today, so that's not hard to do...

love you, honey. love you so much I've decided to quit lurking and post a comment ;)

Bob said...

Must be something in the vodka, erm, water. I've been having a big bout of the insomnia meself. Come over, we'll play Pretty Pretty Princess till we drop.

I Love London... Honest! said...

Hurrah for sleeping! If you keep having bother I have these amazing sleeping tablets that I'm pretty sure aren't even legal in this country. But when you've got a boyfriend like mine who could snore for his country, I'm taking all the help I can get.

PS More sex may help. As might doing the gym in the evening.

Ms C Qrisp said...

One is quite surprised… to hear of you providing peasants at the office such a humble excuse for a night spent tossing and turning.

I never sleep when I am over-happy, over-unhappy or in bed with a strange man.

Yet I do love sleep, because it is both pleasant and safe to use: pleasant because one is in the best possible company, and safe because sleep is the consummate protection against the unseemliness that is the invariable consequence of being awake.

Of course we all know the reason why you haven’t been sleeping… when do the Pink Paper announce a winner for that glittery award? (I pulled all of my strings for you, and even went through the motions of voting… so I do expect a thank you comment WHEN you win)

aumojo said...

LOL! That's just brilliant.

Certainly helped while away some time during my own insomnia.

I finally resorted to herbal sleep-aids yesterday. A lot of good they weren't!

mr null said...

xanax works great for me. Or a nice couple of bottles of Lambrini. :-X

Spike said...

Love the image of you laying there in bed in hatted splendour.

Watched some science type programme a while back in which they tested all these anti-insomnia elaborate rituals and expensive doodads. None of which worked. Turned out it's sticking your foot out. Who'd've thunk it.