Ouch

I didn't sleep at all Tuesday night -- I tried, trust me -- and spent most of yesterday helping my friend's mom move her enormous furniture pieces into an apartment. So if you're scoring at home, that's 28.5 consecutive waking hours commemorated by two hurting arms, one picturesque bruise on my forearm, one sore shoulder, and a partridge in a ... er, nevermind.

After 12 hours of sleep, though, I feel a little better. But I'm still worried -- am I loopy because I actually found this parody of "The Wrestler" a little ... hopeful? You be the judge.