Post-Hibernation Freak Out

Holy fuuuuuuuck,

I’m so antsy I can barely see straight. I’m gonna go ahead and call this manic, even though it is by no means as pleasant as manias tend to be for me. It’s more like being stuck in tiny crevice between hysterical and soul crushing panic attack with OCD looming over your head, restrained only by a tiny piece of cinnamon flavored floss.

It’s like having a constant nervous tick in both your arms and chest and if you don’t find something to do now, and I mean like right this damn second then your brain is gonna explode all over the computer screen but it’ll be ok because then at least you can be distracted by cleaning it obsessively with office kleenex and hand sanitizer.

It’s like taking three too many puffs on an inhaler because you thought for a second you were going to die, but now you think maybe this is worse than the not breathing at all because HOLY FUCK THE JITTERS!

I’m not joking about the jitters, people. I look like I’m seizing a little bit. I’m also afraid I’ll sound like a crazy person if I talk so I’m just gonna shut up and be silent and try my best to focus on this paperwork that has insufferably small print, that normally you can read just fine, but since your eyeballs are doing a tango inside your skull the letters look all wobbly and fuzzy and OMG WHY CAN’T I HOLD A PEN?????

If I weren’t too cheap to pay so that I can insert videos into this blog I would show you what I mean. I’m firmly convinced that all the actors in videos who are old and featured in one of those “awwwwe, that’s so sad moments” where they are trying to eat corn but can’t because it keeps flying off the fork due to their un-ending seizing are not really old, but just manic as all fuck.

That’s what I look like!

I’m the little old man from Fried Green Tomatoes who didn’t kill that evil bastard, but would’ve if he hadn’t gotten punched right the fuck in the face and who really wishes you would listen to him about not eating the BBQ.

FOR GOD SAKES GIVE THE MAN A BIGGER SPOON! I mean seriously, you’re just gonna watch him fail to eat three kernels of corn all hour and instead of thinking, gee, this is a restaurant and I have lots of ladles so maybe I should give him something a little less balance challenging, you’re just gonna watch him and then eventually give him a blanket? Because that’s gonna quell the insatiable hunger gurgling for corn deep within his bowels, a tiny blanket!You bitch. You just sit there and enjoy your perceived superiority to poor old Smokey Lonesome. You. Just. Sit. Because one day it’ll be you who can’t eat your goddamn corn and you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna do the “I have a ladle dance” and wiggle around your perimeter going “I bet you wish you’d given him a better spoon now, dontcha? DONTCHA???”

Except I’m a woman and not that old and I don’t usually like BBQ anyways so I’m a little biased.

Heaven help me if someone gives me soup.

So, since I feel like I’ll have a panic attack if I stop moving I guess I’ll start a project tonight.


Do dishes.

Sweep house.

Paint and antique the fuck out of the nightstand that you think is boring and only bought because your mom insisted that you need a nightstand, but now you’re kind of glad you have it because you can test this antiquing decoupage thing out on it before you tackle your boring ass front door.



1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Valerie
    Feb 05, 2013 @ 22:36:14

    Would break dance fighting help maybe? It’s active, fun and can take your mind off of things. It’s also more fun than chores.

    Double hugs!



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