For some, sleep comes easily. However, for the rest of us going to bed can be a long, unnecessarily drawn-out affair. Luckily, years of field research on my part have led to the discovery of a sure-fire insomnia cure, which I intend to share with you now.
When combating insomnia, be prepared. I have an emergency list of items that I keep on hand for the eventuality that sleep will not come easily, and I suggest you do as well. Be sure to stock up on the following items:
- Six Old Milwaukee Tall Boys
The first step is an obvious one: get the contents of six Old Milwaukee Tall Boys into your stomach as quickly as possible. Not only is this the obvious step, it's actually the only step, so make sure you put the time in. Six Tall Boys averages out to just under three liters of foul-tasting malty lager, and this is a definite perk for your purposes, since you're going to want to drink them quickly and not dwell on the taste. To pass the time, arrange some entertaining activities for yourself in the twenty minutes allotted to drink the Tall Boys (i.e.: watching television, listening to your favorite band, drinking).
I personally enjoy laying down on my bed and reading something boring while I drink; the one-two punch of dull reading material and concussive amounts of alcohol make the bed a perfect choice in the event that I slip suddenly into unconsciousness. Some might be uncomfortable with attempting to down such a large amount of liquid in a reclined position; where you stand on this issue usually rests upon how nice the clothes you're wearing are, and how much you care for them.
In my case, the answer was "not very," but I allow that some of you might spend lots of money on clothes. It would also be wise not to light any naked flames (such as candles, funeral pyres, what-have-you), as the goal here is to slip into a form of coma, and you don't want anything that could be dangerous if left unattended.
By the twenty-minute mark, you should have made it through five of your six Tall Boys. You should also, at this point, be fucking drunk. A test you can give yourself that I approve of is to sing along with whatever song happens to be on the radio. Listen to how your voice sounds as you do this. (This is not actually important to the test, but it never hurts to be attentive).
When you've finished, ask yourself: "God Jesus, did I just sing along to a Jewel song?" If you did, then yes, you're fucking drunk. While employing this method last night, for example, my radio was tuned to a classic rock station, and the song happened to be "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake. I was midway through shouting a particularly rousing falsetto chorus at my toilet bowl while urinating- one of my many targets at the time being the toilet bowl itself- when it occurred to me how thoroughly drunk and, yes, tired I was getting.
NOTE: Though Whitesnake songs are of course recommended when determining how drunk you've gotten, the works of Foreigner and Van Halen can be substituted as necessary.
With over two liters of thoroughly unpleasant Wisconsonite lager sloshing around inside you, you're going to be feeling boisterous and confident, in no small part because you were successful in drinking it. Cautiously avoid any temptation to give friends a call or go out for more drinks in a pub or dance club. Firstly, you won't be sleeping, which was, you may dimly recall at this point, the entire point of this exercise. Secondly, you're quite drunk. Play it safe, and work under the assumption that nobody you know will want to discourse with someone drunk enough to sing Jewel lyrics about how her feelings are like moonlight. If you do have friends willing to do this, contemplate finding new friends. In any event, call no one. Go nowhere. Say, aren't you getting tired?
Crack open your final Tall Boy. If you weren't in bed before, get into bed now. If you were in bed before, maintain this position. Drink the Tall Boy, but more slowly than the others. The last thing you'll want to do at this point is knock back something as foul as Old Milwaukee quickly; this might irritate your already upset stomach further and make for an impromptu trip to the bathroom, ruining the entire exercise.
Sip your Tall Boy casually. Try reading. Are you having trouble focusing on the page? Does reading a sentence send you off on a mangled tangent of thought for five minutes? Most importantly, are your eyes getting heavy? Continue sipping your Tall Boy and reading until you can answer a confident and slurred "yes" to all of the above questions.
This last part requires precise timing. If you go to bed before you've been completely engulfed in the results of your hard work-an alcohol blackout resulting in total brain shutdown-you'll have to start all over again. Worse still, if you stay up past the point where you find yourself at your most exhausted, you run the risk of your body releasing endorphins to wake you back up again. To test yourself, conjure up the following theses:
- Perhaps I'd enjoy Fall Out Boy more if I went to more of their live shows. You know, really absorbed the Fall Out Boy Live Experience.
- I'd be a richer person spiritually if I were to check out some local independent theater.
- I should devote more time helping out senior citizens in the community.
- Maybe I haven't given Jamie Kennedy's films enough of a chance.
If you agreed with any of these statements, your mind is at its most susceptible, and therefore tired. Treat yourself, close your eyes, and head off to a well-deserved sleep.
Sleeping purists might argue that what you've achieved here tonight isn't "sleeping" at all, but rather an "Old Milwaukee-fueled coma". To these nay-sayers, I merely roll my eyes and walk away. The all-important result of this exercise was that, for the better part of ten hours, you were completely unconscious. Only the most embittered rhetoritician would question the success of what you've accomplished here today.
Sleep, my friend - you've deserved every dreamless minute.