Why In The Fuck?

Why in the fuck did I just take a nap, at 8pm, on a weeknight? Why in the fuck was, or even am, I tired? Work was slower than snails trudging through molasses today, so why?

I had big plans for tonight....okay, well not big plans, but plans nonetheless. Now, they're caput. It's 10:25pm now, and my head is spinning from a not-so-comfortable nap. Why in the fuck did every jackass automobile-operator happen to drive down my block and honk uncontrollably directly outside my window during the two-hour period in which I just so happened to rest my eyes? What part of the game is that? And then why in the fuck would somebody ring the buzzer for my apartment, forcing me to rustle out of bed and hit the come-on-in buzzer up here on my end, only to have the scoundrel buzzer-ringer never come a-knocking on my door?

Now my head hurts. Partly, I'd imagine, because my roommate is watching CNN-HD in front of me, broadcasting all of this Obama/McCain analysis in high-def, which only heightens my paranoid sense of "McCain has a sadly-strong chance of winning this thing? Fuck." Jeez, this country is overflowing with morons and red-state-douchebags. Why in the fuck can't Americans see, on the whole, that Sarah Palin is a airhead, puppet-y, still-pretty-sexy-in-a-conservative-MILF-way, but totally misinformed Republican pinup? And why in the fuck can't Americans, on the whole, realize that John McCain was only recently a very desperate man who chose a running mate whom he seemingly met like only a week prior? Sure, yeah, let's elect some geriatric blowhard whose whole campaign is riding on a gimmick, a ploy?

Why in the fuck does Anderson Cooper seem like a dicknose? Yes, I said "dicknose." Big whoop, wanna fight about it?

Why in the fuck am I typing out my feelings right now, rather than doing something constructive like continuing to read my latest book (Stephen King's Cell), or watching the next flick in my Netflix marathon (Irreversible), or doing something else of the productive sort?

Why in the fuck?