I am a stress-eater. This does not mean I eat stress like the ghosts eat Miss PacMan, dominating through devouring. I wish. Instead, I eat cake.
Today I stole a chocolate frosted birthday sliver at 9:15 a.m.
I have now officially reached cake-theft levels of stress.
Yikes.
I leave for JFK in five hours. I leave for Mexico City in nine. I leave for Puerto Villarta in sixteen.
There better be no motherf*ing cake on this motherf*ing plane.
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