Let’s talk about STRESS, ba-by…

I know I’ve been M.I.A. for a while, but I’m back for a minute so let’s get this party started.

First, do you know what stress is? I do. I’ve had a front row seat to it for the past three months. Stress is when you lose 11 lbs. over three months and don’t even realize it til one day you step on the scale and are like, “WHOA! I lost 11 lbs!” I mean, clearly you were really busy if you didn’t weigh yourself for three months. Then all of a sudden it made total sense why your jeans fell to your ankles when you put them on. I mean, who doesn’t notice that they lost 11 lbs?! Unless you weigh like 311 lbs.

Stress is when you go to sleep and wake up feeling like you got hit by a bus (but in a good way) and your sleep mask is around your ankle, your head scarf is wrapped securely around your thigh, and both of your ear plugs are missing. MISSING. I’ll just leave that right there.

Stress is when you get up and walk out in the middle of a massage because it was so bad. Which is no small feat given that you’re pretty naked. Stress is when you get another massage at a different place the next day to compensate for the sucky one you had the day before and your stomach starts growling during the massage and the massage therapist’s stomach is growling, too, and your stomachs sound like they are having a conversation with each other and then you both start laughing so hard you feel delirious and laugh yourself to sleep and couldn’t be rolled over for the rest of the massage. Stress is when you get another massage at a different “spa” the following week and the massage therapist busts out his CD collection and asks if you want to listen to Michael Jackson or Keith Sweat.

Stress is when you have too many run-on sentences in a post and don’t care.

This is my life. All day, everyday.

This is my life. All day, everyday.

Stress is when that damn TPMS light keeps coming on in your car cuz apparently your tires are suuuuuper temperamental and are constantly underinflated or overinflated but never rightly inflated because they want to make your life miserable. And then you take the car to the shop and they’re like, “Ma’am, did you know you had a nail stuck in your tire?” And you’re like, “Yeah, I saw it but figured if I pulled it out the tire would instantly deflate…so I just left it in there. It’ll be alright…it’s only been in there for a few weeks.” Then they take the nail out and patch the hole up, but a week later the freakin’ light comes on AGAIN. So you go to the neighborhood gas station that lets you get free air and pump all your tires so full there’s NO WAY that TPMS light won’t go off and you dare it to ever come on again! But then you ride around for a few more days and the light doesn’t go off so you take it back to the shop and they’re all like, “Ma’am, who was the last person to put air in your tires?” And you’re like, “Uhhhh…I don’t know…you?” “And they’re all, “The reason your light is on is because your tires are way too inflated. Usually you should have 30-40 lbs per tire…you had almost 80 lbs in this one tire! Do you know how dangerous that is?” And you’re like, “Do you know how dangerous YO MAMA is?!”

Stress is when you haven’t gone to the grocery store in months so you’re piecing together a meal that consists of whatever you can find at that moment that will help you to not die. That turns out to be a handful of sunflower seeds, a can of tuna, some string cheese, a few spoonfuls of Ragu spaghetti sauce, and some pineapple Ciroc.

Stress is when the housekeeper comes in and takes one look around the house and asks if she can pray with you before she gets started. Then proceeds to say a prayer in Spanish.

And speaking of the homie Haysoos Kleesto (Jesus Christ for those of you without a sense of humor), stress is when you roll up to church all suited and booted and the parking lot is empty and the door is locked and its dark inside and you’re all, “What the heck? People don’t go to church anymore?!” And then you realize it’s not Sunday…it’s Saturday.

Actually, now that I think about it, none of this is what stress is. These are all by-products of being stressed. *sighs*

Stress is when you realize you either need to change the first few sentences of your post to match what you wrote throughout the rest of the post or write a new post to match those first few sentences. Stress is when you’re like, “To hell with all of this! I’m publishing this post right n


About Magnet for Foolishness

Resident of the DMV…and my incessant thoughts. Always hungry. Comedy craver. Ice cream freak. Reality TV show junkie. Slightly opinionated. Rarely wrong. Part Lisa Simpson. Part Sue Sylvester. Part Meredith Grey. Renowned chef and baker…avid gardener…pet lover…sometimes liar. Effortlessly forgetful. Always hungry. Blindly hopeful. Easily embarrassed (NOT). Eerily observant. Searching for something. Disregarding parallelism. Chronically tardy. Ruthlessly impatient. Surprisingly affectionate. Unnecessarily long-winded.
This entry was posted in Comedy, Funny, housekeeper, humor, Life, Personal, random, stories, thoughts and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Let’s talk about STRESS, ba-by…

  1. rp1496 says:

    Bless IT!!! I haven’t said that in a while! This post made me realize that I don’t know this type of stress, and for that I am thankful!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Cardell says:

    Holy cow this post is hilarious! I’ve read it three times now. Stress is when you wake up from a nap at 8:30pm, but convince yourself it’s 8:30am and run to the bus stop thinking you’re late for work!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. hermitsdoor says:

    Hey, you forgot to add having all the tomatoes in your garden ripen the week you travel across country to visit your aging parents…
    Now wonder I have not checked in since you wrote this in July! LOL

    Liked by 1 person

I want to hear from you!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s