Pictures these, but covered in mold.

We all eat on the run, especially in the morning. Even more, we often grab something and have no idea what we’re eating because of time crunches. I once had Pringles for breakfast because I thought I was grabbing cereal in a can. I have to say, a salty treat with coffee was a different combination, but not bad, sort-of like Cheetos with Peanut-butter/Jelly. I know it sounds nasty, but my pregnant friend told me about it and I’m tellin’ ya, Brad Pitt in a sandwich. Don’t knock it till you try it.

On Friday, I had a client tell me about her eat-on-the-run experience. She grabbed the Hostess 100 Calorie Pack Muffins that morning which she eats daily on the way to work. Being a good driver, she kept her eyes on the road while she unwrapped the muffins. She spelled something weird, “It must be hair product,” she thought, then popped a muffin. She said it tasted like there was hair product all over the mini-muffin so she spit it out, looked down to find mold all over the half-chewed muffin!!!! THEN she looked down at the two remaining muffins to find MOLD ALL OVER THEM! HAHA! I’ve never confused mold with the smell/taste of hair product, but perhaps I should take it to the Oxford University Labs. Those people survey/test anything.

My favorite part of her story is that the mold did not spoil her appetite. She immediately called her mom, who’s office was close by hers, and asked to meet her in the parking lot and bring her a granola bar and yogurt. Girl, you’re not alone if breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Okay, I’m going to make this short and sweet because….  Girl, you’re not alone if you take on too much, try to get it all done in an impossible amount of time which then trickles down to letting all KINDS of business falling through the cracks! I have your sleeping pill right here, act like a 3 year-old and run around until you pass out with your sippy-cup (AKA wine for adults) from exhaustion in a dead man’s pose on the ground. Seriously, when my nephews nap, they look DEAD. It scares me… I’ll put my finger under their nose to make sure they’re breathing. They go, go, go so much that they give it up to the Sleeping Gods in whatever position or spot they may be in. It doesn’t matter if play-dough or a fudge round is in their hands… they’re going down… on top of the LEGO’s or Thomas the Train tracks. That’s what I feel like right now, but it’s not from molding play-dough or running around in circles until I’m dizzy – it’s from doing too much. You feel me. I know you do because you ladies are with me in the coffee line each morning forcing yourself to stand there, waiting your turn, yearning for caffeine freedom. No talking, no greeting until that coffee is in our freakin mitts and we chug ourselves back to life. I know I’m not alone as I’m bear hugging the person in front of me and them the person in front of them bracing each other from falling until our order is taken and coffee is served!!! I could never work at a coffee shop. No wonder those people are cracked-out on happiness at 6am because they have to do quadruple shots of espresso before they deal with the public. It enables them to welcome you in high-pitched voices and looking like they’re restraining themselves from coming across the counter and hugging the holy crap out of you. I fear them. “GOOD MORNING! Can I get you a fresh muffin or warm danish? Perhaps our new perfect oatmeal with a dash of cinnamon and healthy heap of raisins? No?  I completely understand.. before you exit though, please enjoy a banana for potassium and love from mother earth.”  Excuse me, Coffee Girl, I know you’ve just shot-up with caffine crack, but pipe down until I get a hit or your happy ass is going in the grinder.

I’ve completely gotten off the subject and I’m rambling, but I shouldn’t complain as I just got off IM with my counter-part in Kansas City and she’s a mom, wife, machine at work, social butterfly on every freakin committee in the world and she’s up doing cartwheels at 5am with no Columbian crutch. BITCH. Love you, but… Bitch. You give me no reason to complain. No kids… No husband.. All I have to do is feed myself whatever is in reach then pass out.

I lied. This was long and sour.. not short and sweet. The real question is… WHAT THE F$@& DID I BLOG ABOUT??!!!! Oh.. Girl, you’re not alone if you’re exhausted, delirious.. and talk WAAAY too much when in that state.

Come back tomorrow when I’ve tuned my engine. Good night, don’t let the bed bugs bite…. if they do, beat ‘em with a…ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ   

Exhibit A: Passed out from exhaustion on the spot, with my "sippy-cup"