Pew! Pew! Pew!

You know how when you're watching a war movie and the soldiers barricade themselves behind trees or cars or bullet-riddled remnants of walls or especially baskets at the tops of staircases and they peek carefully around them to see where you are before they shoot you with guns or lob grenades at you or leap for your jugular with their ferocious teeth as though you were a hapless, unsuspecting milk-jug ring?

I'm afraid to go upstairs right now.

GAH!

You know how when you somehow decide it would be an awesome, merry idea to send gushing fan letters on Instagram to some of the people you just saw on Broadway and you try to make your effusive gushing really clever because that’s a Very Special Skill you have and in your delusion your unbounded cleverness will make the Broadway people so flattered and touched and amused that OF COURSE they’ll read your gushing fan letters to their entire and entirely grateful casts who will probably hopefully maybe all respond to you with notes that are effusively thankful and not at all guarded because they’re trying to gauge whether or not to put out restraining orders on you—which just so happens to be something you literally joked about in your fan letters in an attempt to be Very Specially Clever—and the morning after you’ve sent your gushing fanboy letters you wake in a clammy-skin gray-sweat mortifying epiphany about the horrors you’ve unleashed and now you’re afraid to open Instagram in the mortal fear that your Broadway people HAVE in fact responded and you suddenly realize that the last thing in the world you want is to see what they might have to say to you either way because you’d actually rather instead be pushed by judgy cool kids into a volcano of feral she-wolves as swarms of angry syphilis bees eat your eyes?

Me neither.

Bitch Kitty is watching. Bitch Kitty is waiting. Bitch Kitty is plotting.

It’s probably best to sleep with one eye open.

Bitch Kitty says good night!

She also says KEEP YOUR BITCH ASS DOWNSTAIRS OR I SWEAR ON ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY I WILL TEAR OPEN YOUR CAROTID. But for now let’s just focus on good night.

You know how when you're lying in bed, relaxing your mind and body, and waiting to drift off to sleep

... when suddenly that one thing you did that one time years and years ago suddenly pops into your head and fills you with pulses of horror and embarrassment and then you end up lying awake for hours mortified by yourself and terrified that you're still being judged?

I still remember with piercing clarity the look of surprise and pain and disbelief on this client's face when I handed him a stack of presentation materials and somehow stabbed him--with blood! and that sickening feeling of grip when I pulled it out!--in the side of his hand with my freshly sharpened pencil. I still remember the stomach-dropping feeling of dread that that one little stab could result in massive financial carnage when this client sued us for negligence and dropped us as an agency.

And I ESPECIALLY remember the next half hour where I had to stand in my state of near-emesis in front our our bleeding, bandaged, possibly lead-poisoned client and his colleagues and MY supervisors as I presented a detailed, matrixed, multi-channel, almost-million-dollar campaign to everyone.

And Facebook not only brought it all back to me this morning, but reminded me that IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS.

Welp

Apparently I’m staying in the basement all day today. Or bleeding out in a pile of eviscerated flesh at the top of the stairs.

#BitchKittyPrisonBitch

Flashback Friday: Hnnnnnn Hnnnnnn Edition

Five years ago this month I rappelled USING A ROPE NO BIGGER THAN MY COMMON SENSE down the side of the 31-story Wit Hotel in downtown Chicago because I HAVE NO IDEA WHY AND I WAS SO TERRIFIED THAT MY LEG WAS SHAKING LIKE ELVIS AT THE TOP AND IT WAS SO BAD THE RAPPELLING GUY ALMOST DIDN'T LET ME GO DOWN and the terror only increased as I descended so I never looked around to enjoy the view and I made a weird hnnnnnn hnnnnnn whimpering sound all the way down and even when I finally reached the sweet, sweet ground I was still so terrified and unnerved that I wend right to a restaurant and drank alcohol.

I'm pretty sure I'm not afraid of a lot of things. But I'm overwhelmingly sure I'm terrified of heights.