I took Girlfriend and Homeslice shopping for some birthday party supplies yesterday. Girlfriend decided on a horse theme, so we bought horse cups and plates and napkins, etc. That shit gets more expensive every year. And then I bent over for a nice eleven millionty dollar ass raping on the party favors–little bandannas to tie together and use as favor bags for a bean bag horse, a decorate the horse with stickers thingy, and a horse finger puppet, and then we went to Target to buy dog food, cat food, panty liners, and a squirt bottle.
We get in the slightly creepy cashier’s line (I go so often I’m practically dating the slightly creepy cashier) and Girlfriend likes to put the stuff on the conveyor belt, so she does and when she gets to the panty liners, she’s goes “mama, what’s these for?” And I didn’t know what to say and the slightly creepy cashier blushed a little bit and then she goes “OH! I KNOW! IT’S FOR WHEN YOU POOP YOUR PANTS SO YOU WON’T GET POOP ON YOUR PANTIES!”
Oh dear God.
Dear, dear, dear God.
Behind us in line were a bunch of massage school students in their scrubs picking up sodas between classes. They heard that one loud and clear.
I have to find a new Target because everyone there now thinks I shit myself.
This is what I get for plotting to put Vagisil in random people’s carriages. That damn karma again! GAH!