This post was written at 3am

What a long winding journey i had to get home last night. After doing "Crash Test" I was suppoed to hang out at a bar with A. Ansari, N. Kroll, J. Mulaney, C. Peretti and J. Carlos. It was like one of my dreams when I was in 3rd grade: I turned around and everyone was gone. I had no clue where they went. I just knew the name of the bar: "Half King." My phone was dead, so I couldn't call anyone or receive info that was being transmitted to me. So I walked around just looking for the place before remembering a bar at which people from the UCB hang out. I thought "that must be the place" and headed over there to find out it was not the right place. It had a different name. I went in and asked for the phonebook. I found the address for "The Half King" and made my way over there. By the time I got there everyone was gone. Of course they're gone, I was 30 min late.

I walked down 23rd St. from 10th Ave to Broadway. Something is wrong with the train there so I walked down to Union Square and waited waited waited. I finally got on the train and for some reason the air conditioner was blasting cold air. Ridiculous. Its cold fall outside, but it was winter in that car. Eventually we slowly made our way through the system. A homeless man complete with a cart full of bags and a hunchback mades his way onto the car. Somehow I ended up being the person closest to him. This next sentence is not an exaggeration. He smelled so bad my balls began to hurt. That doesn't even make sense. I got a whiff of his odor and my balls began to ache. A pulsing ache that i'd never experienced. I wasn't sitting strangely nor did I have a pencil mistakenly jabbing into my scrotum. Just the odor of pee and failed aspirations. Maybe the smell was so bad that my sperm were trying to retreat from it. It was the sperm version of Chernobyl or Pompeii and they were all trying to escape, but, of course, there is no escaping my testes.

I think I might have a serious sleeping problem.