Give Me A Cape. I Am Super Bitch.

When I’m really stressed out you can tell in a couple of ways: 1) I lose my sense of humor. 2) My face gets all constipated looking. 3) I start storming around shouting out commands and 4) I randomly shout out “I AM SO STRESSED”!  

That was pretty much my week. Now, granted, I did it to myself. I waaaaay overscheduled things, but sometimes you just can’t say no. Seriously. It’s like imagine you love bacon, I mean you LOVE it, and you haven’t had bacon in ten months and the thing you dream about more than anything is a slice of bacon, but you’ve randomly told yourself “I’m not going to have bacon for a year”, and then some bastard sets a whole plate of FREE BACON in front of you and tells you this could be the last of All The Bacon In The World and if you don’t take your bacon now you may NEVER EVER HAVE BACON AGAIN. EVER. Not ever. (ever)

Would you have a slice of bacon?

Not if you’re a vegetarian.

But if you’re a NORMAL person? Would you? (Not the VegHeads aren’t normal. This is just an elaborate extended metaphor.)

You’d have the fucking bacon. And you wouldn’t stop at one slice. You’d eat the whole plate of bacon just because it might be the last bit of bacon you’ll ever see, and then you’d moan and regret and complain because you feel sick over all that bacon and you’d say that you hate bacon and bacon makes you bloated and…

 

What the hell am I writing about? I’ve totally forgotten my whole story.

 

Oh. Right. Stress.

 

So this month I’ve been narrating a whole lot, putting up a mini-recording studio in my basement, running to teach blah blah blah. It’s the same story. But these last two weeks I sort of had a collision of stress so intense it actually turned me into an awkward super hero: Super Bitch. I even wore boots. I’m not kidding.

 

As I see I’ve taken up this entire blog with a pointless metaphor of eating bacon, I’ve now run out of space. I’ll continue this in another blog and tell you just how I have exhibited my supreme Bitch Powers this week. It’s not pretty, but at the same time I feel sort of proud about it.

I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I have issues. And now, dammit, I want bacon.