-Our nocturnal culture gets all the glory.  Putting in a late night at the office, pulling an all-nighter before an exam, partying until the brink of dawn – this is the stuff of legends.  But there is another side, an untold story.  There are a select group of twentysomethings, of which I am a part, who thrive during the daylight hours.  We are a group that doesn’t have an office or a classroom to go to.  Our time to shine is, well, when the sun is shining – but we do so from the comfort of own homes.  We are the self-employed, the unemployed, the writers, comedians, actors, and freelancers.  We may not have anywhere to go all day.  We may masturbate a lot.  And we may not have proper health insurance.  But we’re people, too.  Welcome to the world of daycrawlers.

-I’ve been a daycrawler since the summer of 2002, when I left Wall Street to focus on writing and stand-up full-time.  I quickly upgraded to a fully-equipped home office (i.e. I bought a stapler), and here I sit to this day.  In fact, when I’m not on tour, I’ve been known not to leave my apartment for days on end.  When I still lived with my roommate Brian, I used this fact as leverage.  I’d say, “Listen man, you left your dirty dishes out again.  I’m not threatening you, but just so you know, I’m gonna be in the apartment all week.  If you don’t clean up, there’s a chance my balls may graze your pillow.  A good chance.”

-When you’re in your apartment all day, you start to develop strange habits.  For instance, I like to sniff my tub of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.  I’m telling you, it smells fucking amazing.  Give it a whiff, you won’t be disappointed.  I’ve also become pretty adept at fending for myself in adverse situations.  Like when I chipped a tooth a few months ago.  I really didn’t want to drive to the dentist, so I just filed it down myself with a Swiss Army Knife.  What can I say?  Sniffing margarine makes you do crazy things.

-On the first of every month, like clockwork, I get a copy of Outside Magazine.  I don’t know why I get a copy of Outside Magazine.  After all, I don’t have a subscription.  One day, they just started sending it to me.  It’s quite ironic, too, because I rarely even go outside.  What I’d like to read, if it existed, is Inside Magazine.  Now that I could sink my teeth into.  Especially if it featured the latest advances in air conditioning.  To me, A/C is pretty much the peak of civilization.  As far as inventions go, the wheel was OK, the Internet, not bad.  But I mean, I think there’s gotta be room on the calendar for a holiday dedicated to the guy who invented air conditioning.  I’m thinking some time in summer.