Princess Poopy Pirate’s Pampered Chef Party, sponsored by Oil of Olay

Hello, my name is Jennifer.  I am the mother of a fecalphiliac.

Yesterday was bad.  Very, very bad.  There were many casualties, including some plastic royalty and endangered species.  Today was not as bad as my little “artist” was caught brown-handed in the very early stages of activity, still we lost a beauty.  

On the bright side, I have now completed Grace’s Christmas List:

  1. BulletOveralls

  2. BulletDuct tape

 

I’m just barely hanging on.  

I think I need a job.  

Since I’m not interested in a traditional job like bank teller, insurance salesman, or psychic friend, and since I don’t exactly work and play well with others I’m a little stumped…and lazy.  So when a couple of friends told me two weeks ago I should become a Pampered Chef Dealer, I thought, “Yes.  Thank you for saving me the trouble of figuring out my own life.”  

I suppose I should be grateful they hadn’t spent the previous day at a crack-dealing party.

I’m still not sure.  I’m not much of a salesman.  I think I’d rather be the dictator of my own third-world country, I’ll have to check Craigslist for openings in that field.

Finally, I think I crossed some kind of weird, age threshold today.  I bought my first Oil of Olay products at Walgreen’s.  I bought age-denying moisturizer designed to rejuvenate my skin as I sleep, time to see if it works.

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