Naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps, naps! [feat. Lil' Jon] [here, if you don't get it -- 9 times out of 10, I wouldn't]
Preface: This is a post in which I shall attempt to describe the types of naps known by non-idiotic man. The cultured man of good taste and stock, because, as Sir Charles Barkley says, "Anything less, would be uncivilised." And to preemptively (supposedly to protect American freedom, whatever that means) answer your question: no, I really don't have anything better to do with myself on a Saturday night -- I am planning to drink a mean Diet Coke, though. So I got that going for me...
The Blink-And-You'll-Miss-It
There comes a time in almost any nap where the napper must make an important decision: to nap or not to nap. This question is typically answered about 15 minutes into a nap, especially if under stress or deadline, as the napper suddenly jolts awake and must decide if he should go back to sleep or wake up. One must not dither because to dither is to lose the ability to nap altogether; it is to forfeit that great skill honed on benches, couches, floors, and beds in that Ancient Greek tradition of college. The Blink-And-You'll-Miss-It nap is the lowest form of napping -- you never feel more rested, only frustrated as you lie in bed, fitfully tossing until you alarm goes off. What was supposed to be a "quick, efficient, REFRESHING!" 45 minute nap after work/school was not. One who fails at this skill more often than not fails in other, more important aspects of his or her life.
The Kiefer Sutherland
Did you really just help Jack Bauer diffuse an airplane bomb? Or are you just spilling warm beer on yourself on your parent's basement couch as you drift in and out with the TV on. That's ok if you are, not everyone can have exciting lives. The 'nightmare' version of this nap, as you can guess, is called the Sinbad or the Hannah Montana, depending on what you decide to watch when you think no one's looking.
The Sweaty Pajama
Gross. It's summertime, three or four in the afternoon, and you wake up drenched, under your comforter. Typical of the novice napper, this nap is nonetheless disgusting. Close the blinds, turn on the fan, and throw off the comforter, for crissakes man!
The Where the Fuck am I?
Lucky you, this is the Holy Grail of naps. No less than two hours long, you awake from this nap with no clue where you are, what time it is, or sometimes, if it's a really good one, no idea who you are. Are you a spy? Are you a debauched lover? [ed. probably not] Is it morning? Night? But, the most relevant question, the one that skips the most beats, is why do I have 10 messages on my phone? What important milestone did I miss? Yes, these are the best kind of naps. It's even better to see someone wake up from such a nap. You can see these questions running through their mind, one by one, until the sad bludgeon of reality once again hits them squarely on their head.
The In-Name-Only
-- "So, what are you up to now?"
-- [Exaggerated yawn, stretch] "We're just blowin' through nap time, aren't we -- I'm going to go home and take a nap, I'm exhausted."
Now, some among us do really go home and take this nap and it will probably be a Blink-And-You'll-Miss-It. Fail. The rest of us will get in our cars, determined to have our heads hit the pillow in ten minutes or less, only to find, two hours later as we end our fruitless search for glass coffee mugs, record player clamps, or whatever it is we waste our time on, nap time has officially passed us by. But who is really the loser here? [ed. both of you, probably]
The world does not stop for naps and so we must take every opportunity the second it comes to enjoy one. We can only hope that its a Where the Fuck am I?
No comments:
Post a Comment