I was attempting in my lazy stupor to guide my glass of Diet Coke into my hot little hand, as the act of leaning forward has become tedious and stupefyingly difficult in my old age. I managed to drag the thing about four inches to the end of the table, but was unable to navigate the two feet in the air to my outstretched hand. Nobody told me that telekinesis and levitation are two different talents. The shame in all of this is that the lovely glass that wasn't even purchased by me for 99 cents at K-mart twelve years ago met such an unfortunate end:

Just a word of warning: Diet Coke and wool carpets don't mix. Seriously, I have to apologize to guests every time we sit in the living room about the stink emanating from our rug. "No, it's a funny story," I usually begin, "we don't have a wet dog... nope, the non-existent cat didn't piss on our rug either. I was trying to levitate a Diet Coke and only realized half way through that I didn't have the ability... and now our room smells like crap because I'm a moron."

Even worse is the fact that the stupid living room table I own is hollow and houses some really important things, including my old King-Tee and Special Ed tapes, a couple photos of my drunk high-school friends and a peach colored afghan that my grandma knitted for me. That said, this can't be good:

This is sooo sad.