One of the reasons I do what I do -- write fart jokes -- is that I'm not real good at waking up. Seriously, I have injured my hand turning off the alarm clock.

On my nightstand you'll find eye covers, ear plugs, and a novel by Dan Brown. I don't read, of course; the book is to throw at my cat when he gets noisy. (Easy, PETA -- it's paperback.)

My friends, in contrast, wake up to the "wrong" buzzer from Family Feud: "EH EH EH EH."

Alarm, n. 1. Sudden fear caused by the portent of danger. 2. The first thing we hear every ... single ... morning.

For my birthday I got an alarm clock that sings, "Waking up is hard to do." As if we didn't have reason enough to hate Neil Sedaka.

I can't even sleep when the buzzer is set. Alarm-clock sleep is like a shower that will, at any moment, turn ice cold.

I've always had trouble falling asleep anyway, something to do with those bedtime stories of yore... "And the monsters came to overtake the city and make their homes in the closets of children everywhere. The end. Good night, honey."

Morning People really crawl in my cracks. By the time you wake up, they've already jogged ten miles and rebuilt the patio.

"You're supposed to wake up at sunrise," they say, "like a rooster."

If a rooster wakes me up at sunrise, you'll know what I'm having for breakfast.

A wedding once forced me to wake up at 5 a.m. First, I didn't even know they made a 5 a.m.; but as I lay in bed, eyes bleeding, EH EH EH EH, I started to wonder: "What if I did go back to sleep? I'd make new friends..."

It was cold, too, one of those days when the blankets fuse to your body like a placenta. It took 30 minutes to get all my parts out.

"There's the head... Good, we've got a head ... Ten fingers ... We think it's a boy..."

Have you ever been so tired that you can't even get up to pee? You almost want to wet the bed and deal with it later. Maybe there's a market for Depends. "The new deep-sleep adult undergarment ... Yellow and blue makes green!"

My friend Dave, father of twins, bragged about "sleeping in" till 7 a.m. Let this be a lesson to you young people: When they say to use protection, this is exactly what you're protecting against. Dave's kids go off at any old hour, and he can't throw a book at them without taking heat from PETA.

And why, since we're here, would anyone want to sleep like a baby? They wake up crying in soiled pants; they don't know where they are ... It's the life and times of Bobby Brown.

Fact: If the alarm clock woke you up this morning, you did not get enough sleep. And you're being catty. There. It's been said.

You almost can't blame the people at Starbucks. "Yeah, gimme a triple espresso latte overcaf and, uh, serve it in a syringe."

Starbucks isn't the only pusher in town either. Whatchyou want, man, whatchyou want? We got Red Bull, Vivarin, Buzz Bites, Regis and Kelly...

Then we skid away to our next appointment -- no time to say goodbye, hello, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late.

Question: Does anyone really know what time it is? Does anyone really care? They say Native Americans had no concept of time, that it was our gift along with alcohol, firearms, and religion. So it goes.

Speaking of casinos, my own home has only two clocks, which you find by asking the high-heel women in fishnet stockings, cha cha cha.

The point being that there is little in life that can't be helped by eight hours sleep and a bowel movement. So ask not for whom the alarm clock buzzes; it buzzes for thee.

I'll leave you with these words from Apostles John and Paul (Revolver 1:3)...

"Please don't wake me. No, don't shake me. Leave me where I am. I'm only EH EH EH EH."