Just a Knuckle draggin' in need of medical attention type sleep!

This is from my myspace friend Cheree's Blog. She works on a boat counting fishes scales and pooping precariously over the side of rusty trawlersfor months at a time. She is always looking out for a party and or pirates!

The paragraph she put on her blog was enough to make me wanna buy this book so I thought I would do a' copy paste job' on my blog and share it with ya'll. I laughed out loud more than once.

-----------------Original Blog---------------------

A section from the book In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson. This section on page 11, he is talking about his first tour of Sydney given to him by a coworker, his wife and two little girls, where he disgraced himself by falling asleep.

At some unfortunate point, quite early on, jet lag asserted itself and I slumped helplessly into a coma.
I am not, I regret to say, a discreet and fetching sleeper. Most people when they nod off look as if they could do with a blanket; I look as if I could do with medical attention. I sleep as if injected with a powerful experimental muscle relaxant. My legs fall open in a grotesque come-hither manner; my knuckles brush the floor. Whatever is insidetongue, uvula, moist bubbles of intestinal airdecides to leak out. From time to time, like one of those nodding-duck toys, my head tips forward to empty a quart or so of viscous drool onto my lap, then falls back to begin loading again with a noise like a toilet cistern filling. And I snore, hugely and helplessly, like a cartoon character, with rubbery flapping lips and prolonged steam-valve exhalations. For long periods I grow unnaturally still, in a way that includes onlookers to exchange glances and lean forward in concern, then dramatically I stiffen and, after a tantalizing pause, begin to bounce and jostle in a series of whole body spasms of the sort that bring to mind an electric chair when the switch is thrown. Then I shriek once or twice in a piercing and effeminate manner and wake up to find that all motion within five hundred feet has stopped and all children under eight are clutching the r mothers hems. It is a terrible burden to bear.
I had no idea how long I slept in that car other than that it was not a short while. All I know is that when I came to, there was a certain heavy silence in the carthe kind of silence that would close over you if you found yourself driving around your own city conveying a slumped and twitching heap from one perceived landmark to another.

Below is The Sea Fare'in lady herself...

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