For example, fifteen years ago at 11 p.m., I was rubbing the disco-nap residue out of my eyes and slapping on lipstick to head out on the town. But after years of abrupt 6 a.m. awakenings, I've become the curmudgeon who balks at dinner plans after 7:30, for fear I'll be so beat, I'll be rendered physically unable to pry my lead heinie off the couch.

Except for the occasional night out, there aren't many reasons to engage in heinie-hoisting these days. But last week, a fave comedian -- Chelsea Handler -- added an 11 p.m. show to her two-night stint at Radio City Music Hall.

I just love me some Chelsea. Girlfriend breaks it down like no other. Had free audience tickets to her show in L.A. a few years back, but I was caught at a conference and couldn't make it because I had to go and be responsible. Now that everyone in the free world has discovered her show, I've got a snowball's chance in hell of duplicating that score. Eight p.m. tickets for her Radio City sold out before I even got on the right order page. So when she added this 11 p.m. show, I was seduced by the ticket chase. I immediately e-mailed my husband to gauge his interest the potential of this silly shenanigan.

"Let's do it! We'll drink coffee!" he exclaimed, as if we don't already drink vats of coffee just to get to noon. This was midnight. And in my perpetually exhausted state, I wasn't sure if I could actually, physically withstand being among the conscious for that long in a 24-hour period.

But then it dawned on me: I'm a parent! Sleep deprivation is my specialty! The very reason I was dreading this adventure is the very reason I'd be equipped to handle it. Not long ago, midnight and 4 a.m. bottles were de rigeur. When other people complain about having to get up at 8 a.m., I snarl with 'tude, because to me 8 a.m. is a luxurious indulgence. Why was I afraid of missing something I wasn't going to get anyway?

Besides, I haven't had a looooong night out with The Hub in quite a while. Turns out his enthusiasm for this foolish caper was all the justification I needed. I clicked "Buy" and got some sweet seats in the process.

When I e-mailed my sitter to ask if she could come over that night, she LOL'ed in response. After all, we're the couple who willing comes home from dinner to relieve her at 9 p.m. (The way we see it, she did all the dirty dinner-bath-bed work, and the lure of chillaxing on our couch is all-mighty at that hour.)

"I can do that!" she wrote. "But the question is, can you?"

We'll see. Stay tuned.

Vivian Manning-Schaffel serves as momlogic's East Coast Editor. She has written for Babble, Parenting, The Advocate, The New York Post, Business Week and a variety of other publications and lives and works in the heart of breeder Brooklyn with her husband and two kids. She authors two pop culture blogs: The Mad Mom and A Hag Supreme, and is on the web at vivianmanningschaffel.com.