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:
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.