Summoning Forth My Inner Barbarella

I've had a rotten couple of weeks. Business has been tough. My personal life has been rough. I can't keep up with Hollaback Girl's pace when we go running. My faux tan fades faster the new highlights in my hair that I paid $130 for. It's horrendously hot and humid. I am sweating through orifices that one shouldn't perspire through. I have more things that I need to do in one day than is actually physically possible..unless of course I give up sleeping which I am considering. That silver lining of life is remarkably evasive these days. I am beaten beyond beaten. If that makes sense.

It would be easy to surrender to an outright funky depression but that never solves anything and frankly it's not my style. These are the times when I have to reach down deep and summon my inner Barbarella. This could be likened to the drawing forth of a split personality, an inner voice that says, "I don't take shit from no one". Now, this inner Barbarella goes by many names in my everyday vernacular: Shetangy (as in "I'm going to get all shetangy on your ass if you utter another word") or Bambora ("I am Bambora, Queen of the West Wind and if another syllable escapes from that hole you call a mouth, I'm going to get all shetangy on your ass.") You get the idea.

Today I woke feeling at my lowest ebb; deflated and hopeless. As if on cue Barbarella emerged. "Pick yourself up, you silly cow," she whispered to me is hissing tones, "get your fat ass in gear!" I had to comply. I put on a saucy red and white dress with a flattering neckline (read: makes rack look voluptuous). I sauntered out the door and into a torrential downpour (who knew there were flood conditions in Manhattan and tornado warnings in Brooklyn?). I got to my garage, soaked from the knees down, mounted my trusty Angus and I sped off into the hazardous rain. Dire conditions a worry? Not for Barbarella. I scoff at poor visibility and flooded roads! Who needs to slow to a crawl at the toll plaza when I have an EZpass? I laugh in the face of danger!! It must have worked for I was in the office 58 minutes after I left home.

As the day unfolded, I heard an uncharacteristic voice emerge from me dispelling gabblygook from long talkers, cutting through vague talk on a conference call when someone was spinning like a spider in heat. It was beautiful.I felt vibrant and flirtatious and when I was getting a shovelful of bullshit, I redirected the pile right back on the culprit. I felt like the master of my domain.

I had a spring in my step when I left the office, my inner Barbarella still pulsating with vigor. Alas sometimes Barbarella can be a little aggressive for the situation. Case in point: Tonight as I exited off the freeway onto the McCombs Dam Bridge (which joins The Bronx and Manhattan) some asshole decided to bypass the single entry lane, ride on the shoulder and cut in front of me into my lane of traffic. The moment he ventured the nose of his ratty white van into my lane, I laid on my horn like a wartime air raid siren. He shot me a shitty look. And here people, the bad part of the inner Barbarella: I gave him the finger. But not just one. TWO. I mean, why stop at one? Take two, they're free. He rolled down his window and started yelling at me. And what did I do? The exact same thing, although I did hear myself saying the following unfortunate words: "Cutting into traffic from the shoulder is bullshit and not proper traffic etiquette, you stupid ass!" He muttered a few choice eff yous before he sped off. Perhaps it's good the light changed or Barbarella would have had to demonstrate her cross-hook combination or deflect a bullet or simply utter a few choice eff yous back. Who knows?

I remember one line from the movie "Barbarella" in particular that reinforces this perfectly: "What's that screaming? A good many dramatic situations begin with screaming..." And so they should.