At this exact moment, you're probably on your first third coffee of the morning, have just settled down in your cubicle, and are stealthily looking over your shoulder to make sure your boss doesn't catch you reading up on some Oklahoma chatter with us here at the Lost Ogle before you start actually being productive. Well, as you read this post, (granted it's before noon on Tuesday), I can guarantee that at this very moment, my head is rested firmly on my keyboard, there's a puddle of drool collecting on the IKEA desk of my fluorescent-lit office, and I may or may not be snoring at a moderate volume.
Nope, I didn't catch a midnight showing of the Avengers, and I certainly don't have a new boyfriend. The one bad thing about attending a play-off game when you live in Tulsa is you'll get home roughly around 3:00am. Or at least that's what happens to me, as my younger sister is the type who insists we go to Mickey Mantle's after each game we attend just in case Russell Westbrook makes a cameo. I pulled exactly zero all-nighters in college. Relays for Life, church lock-ins, and even adult sleepovers aren't things I frequently participate in because I'm the kind of girl that requires a full eight hours of horizontal time. Plus, Nick Collison is more my type, and a hottie like him probably prefers reading Malcolm Gladwell books and watching Parks and Rec in the buff on his 500+ thread count sheets in his mansion after games. At least that's what he was doing in that dream I had about him a couple night ago.