Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Supa Sister is a Chronically Late Sleep Whore
Supa Sister is beginning to accept the fact that it might be a basic physical impossibility to present herself to work on time. (Cocoa Girl spoke on this subject..somewhere on her blog.) Because surely no matter what Supa Sister does or how much lead time she gives herself, she will always find a way to Fuck Up her meticulously thought-out and preemptive "Get Your Shit Together So You Don't Have to Rush in the Morning" plan.
Main reasons of failure being: Supa Sister spends the most of each day getting her complete and fabulous hustle on and therefore really really needs her replenish time, and also because she’s a bona fide sleep whore who simply relishes any time spent luxuriating and power-lounging amongst her 800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, overly fluffy down comforter, gang of white linen scented feather down pillows and cozy electric blanket, in her mosquito-net draped, mahogany-oak sleigh bed. That, and the simple fact Supa Sister just has no fucking interest in waking up every weekday morning at six got damn fifteen a.m.
And to complicate matters, it doesn’t at all help that Supa Sister’s special powers tend to present themselves during that coveted unconscious mode most people call QUALITY SLEEP, which in Supa Sister’s case, means she’s usually off astral traveling somewhere, or having some kind of lucid dream, or vision, or premonition, so when Supa Sister awakes, she must take a quantifiable amount of time to decipher what went down and if she needs to call anyone to inform them that she's sorry but in about two days they’re gonna die.
Don't misunderstand, all that traveling and romping around in the astral realm and seeing into the unchangeable future can be loads of fun, but that shit does makes me kinda tired. (Trust and believe – it’s a gift and a curse.) So if anyone has found the proper knack of coming to grips with one’s psychic abilities while simultaneously selecting a proper outfit and jewelry combination befitting a fly-ass fashionista on her way to the C.S.S. (Corporate Slave Ship), please - let a sista know.
So. This morning Supa Sister’s tardiness surpassed the ‘mildly late’ range and quietly careened into the Just Fucking Triflin’category. Her first outfit selection wasn’t to her liking, and the second showed strong improvement, but then the remaining accessories from Outfit #1 were all wrong. And Supa Sister just hates when that happens. So it took her an extra thirty minutes to remedy the gear faux pas, all while trying to figure out what that dream about chatting over Starbucks coffee while vacationing on the Planet Venus with her favorite dead uncle, an anonymous talking brown spotted duck, and J-Lo really meant.
Supa Sister, out.
And still sleepy.
And still kinda mad because I still don't like what I have on.