Slumber Party Countdown: T-1 Day

Today I returned to the Mothership - uh, I mean, went to Target and picked up all the last minute essential items for Slumber Party Conclave 2005 Exodus From Innocence Volume 1. There was, you know, the Picking Of The Final Goody Bag Item (Body Jewelry Stickers - cause I know all the parents want their daughters coming home looking like itty bitty pole dancers) and the Choosing Of The Cereals, not to mention the Procuring Of The Outdoor Activity (badmitton/volleyball kit with net - on sale for $17! Asked if this came with optional playleader for hire, WHICH IT DID NOT. I take back what I said about Target having everything.)


Am compelled to repeat Rigel's suggestion here, only because it's endearing in a 'why-guys-don't-have-slumber-parties' kind of way:

"So, why don't we all go out to breakfast on Saturday?" (Mothers, hold your laughter.)

"Uh, you mean, the morning after the slumber party, with all the little girls that have been up all night?"

"Yeah, let's just take them out to breakfast. It'll be easier than having to feed them breakfast here."

"Hmmm, let's think this out. All seven girls. We'll need to take two separate cars and find seating for nine, including you and I, for breakfast on a Saturday morning. Scientific odds say that at least thirty percent of them will spill their orange juice - that means 2.33 spilled glasses of juice, not to mention the bathroom trips resulting from all that juice, let's see, the space time continuum chart says 1.5 trips per female which adds up to a possible 10.5 back and forths to the crapper. This doesn't take into account mixed up orders or those guests who may take this opportunity to order all those things that they aren't allowed to when they're around their own parents, which could ratchet up the bill an additional 45% of what it would be with seven average little girls, not seven sleep deprived hyped-up little sassies after a slumber party."

"Waffles and cereal at home sounds great."

Moral: Fear and science, even bad, lame-ass science, are essential components in bending man to your will.


Will be up late tonight designing and ironing on 'TokyoMewMew' t-shirt transfers which means that by six o'clock tomorrow evening, when all seven little beauties are here with their shining, eager faces ready to party and celebrate the Birth That Was Kira's, I should be in full-blown Mother of Hellfire mode, batting at the air with my claws and ready to carve out my frontal lobe with a set of cake serving utensils.

Archive File: Family | Offspring

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