I'm not sure what was going on tonight, though, because I have been hearing some whoppers, even through the earplugs and Alaska Amber:
'I'm afraid of dying!'
'I need you to wash my feet!'
'He's not being kind! He won't let me sleep with my robot parts and my pillow pet!'
'I can't go to sleep until my green shirt gets washed!'
'I need a tissue!'
'I need a tissue, too!'
'I didn't get any boogers!'
'I didn't get any boogers, either!'
They're STILL awake in there, playing some seriously questionable game, and we're running low on beer. Things are not looking good, my friends. If you don't see any more posts from me, send one of those St. Bernards with the keg around its neck. Actually, send two, and don't bother waiting to see if I post again. HELP ME.