Paranormal mates society

Someone here needs to seriously fix her weird sleeping habits.

I feel like a thief in my grandmother's house. A thief who takes a bath at 1:30 in the morning, munches on raisins and melted mocha ice cream, who internets all night long, laughing (gasping with mirth) with my imaginary friend plus newfound snarky bitch friends Candy and Sarah over ridiculous mantittes and overtly helpless-bored looks with the contrived illegal buttsecksings, half-scribbling the beginnings of a story, using my tita's laptop without her consent, and it's nearly five o'clock in the freaking morning and everybody is going to wake up any minute now and they'd find me crouched over my illegally-used laptop, on the dining table, exactly as they left me some odd hours ago, sans laptop, of course.

Got all that?

And in the background, somewhere, is the insistent beeping of my cellphone, which I haven't graced with mine eyes for more than a day now. Are y'all texting me, hunny bunnies, wondering if I've been farted off the face of this puh-lanet?

EEK! I hear squeaky floorboard sounds from the upstairs. Demmit!