Wonder Woman flies again. Bitch.

A friend of mine recently launched a range of energy drinks. She was kind enough to send us some to try. They’re good. Very good. You can read about them at www.vuka.com. But this blog isn’t about the drinks, it’s about my friend. Lets call her Wonder Woman (WW).

I think most people have a friend or member of their family who’s a classic over achiever. They excel at everything. That’s WW. She has 4 businesses, 3 gorgeous, talented kids, 1 loving husband, runs marathons to raise money for sick kids and on top of everything is blonde with great tits. Don’t you hate her already? I know I’ve tried. But she’s also really, really nice. Damn her.

Now I wouldn’t mind it so much if I was half the woman WW is. But truth be told I’m way to lazy to be that perky. I could probably start a few businesses, running a marathon, how hard can it be? But if I had all that on my plate I would bitch and moan about it to all who would listen. WW is one of the happy, positive people. Her family are like the Von Trapp family on Prozac. Her hills are alive with the sound of rave music. All that positivity is obviously productive, I mean look at what the woman has achieved, but where’s the fun in it? Where’s the whine?

Now I only have one job. Mom. Two, if you throw in Wife. And I spend all day bitching to whoever will listen about how hard my job is, how there’s no “me” time, no recognition for a job well-done, blah blah blah. You name it, I’ve complained it. More jobs would mean more moan, and well, even I don’t have enough Jewish angst for that. So I think I’ll stick to what I’ve been doing and live vicariously through the achievements of my friend. And maybe, just maybe, all that abundant, exuberant, Yes-We-Can-Obama-like energy will rub off on me. Cue: “Shiny Happy People” dancing song and those bluebirds from Snowhite.