My good pal Michael, who can be found over yonder at 3intheam.com, has graciously offered to write a short series of guest posts filled with late night tips. Most of the internet junkies I know (myself included) are insomniacs and/or night-owls, and I personally am more than a little curious to know what foods I should or should not eat at one o'clock in the morning. What are good books to help me relax? What are things I can do to stay awake for that "zomg, it's finals week!" cram session?

Michael plans to address these subjects and more over the next several weeks, so stay tuned!

Late Night Tips:

1. Books - suggestions of which ones to read while burning the midnight oil.
2. Teh Interwebs - sites to visit when you're suffering an insomnia attack or when you really just aren't in the mood to get around to that important project.
3. Working - tips on how to keep your mind active when you've got work to do.
4. Your guess is as good as mine. Check back next week for another installment!

P.S. Just promise me you won't find him so awesome that you decide to push me in the proverbial internet ditch, mmk? Remember . . . I'm the one with all the good make-out practice (thanks, Sims 2!) and the keys to the janitor's closet at the church. Love me!

My dad often makes a lunch for me to take to work. In his mind, I am seven years old and really into books and ballet and classical music and math. Thankfully, I still eat like a seven-year-old, so things work out well. The best part of this lunch-making tradition is that my dad always includes a Post-It Poem, his corny and rhyming way of telling me he loves me. Are you gagging yet? Me too. It's awesome.

I was majorly bummed on Thursday, however, when I opened my oversized Microsoft lunchbox to find a bagel, a banana, Pop-Tarts, and a granola bar . . . but NO POST-IT NOTE!

My world came to a screeching halt, and I started running through everything I had said to my father that morning. Sadly, that was a bit of a dead end, since our conversations are always the same before noon.

"Good morning, Rach!" my father will sing merrily.

"Mmf."

Had my morning grunt been too harsh? Was he finally sick of it? Did he no longer love me?

I realized that he had probably been too busy to write a note, so I settled down and ate my lunch. I pushed the issue out of my head for the rest of the day, pleasantly distracted by workplace drama and a constant stream of jazz music.

My mother and I walked out the door at 5 p.m., grumbling about an ugly brochure or the humidity or how I need to hurry up and marry rich already. Our rant was cut short by the sound of my cell phone chirping. I pulled it out of my purse and groaned. "1 New Message; Dad." This was bound to be cheesy.

There was no time
To make a rhyme
And stuff it in your lunch

So here's a note
That u can quote
I love you a whole bunch!!!

Dad

Lo and behold, it was really cheesy. Too cheesy for most mere mortals. A level of cheesy only attained by fathers and seniors. But I'll be darned if I don't love every cheesy little line of every dorky little poem.

Thanks, Dad. You're the best.

Meet my new friend! His name is Harry, and he likes long walks on the sidewalk. His fuzzy brand of cuteness stole my heart immediately, but then Cute Tuesday Boy showed up (out of the blue) and stole it right back. *sigh* So many men. So little time.