So, today is the day of the Pampered Chef party. Woo. I’m very excited about it since it means real, live grownups in a face to face situation which is always a chance for me to test my social and comedic skills. Neither of which get a lot of practice since my kids don’t appreciate my humor.

Well, Tricia does, but for her, I mostly blow raspberries on her belly or play “Peekaboo!” or say “I’m gonna eat your toes!”, all of which she finds hilarious. I’m thinking grownups might not find those particular things terribly funny, especially the part where I put their toes in my mouth to pretend to eat them. Aside from them not finding it funny, that’s pretty gross. But that’s aside from the point here.

Another part of me is very nervous because it means real, live grownups in a face to face situation which means an opportunity to make a complete and total ass of myself. This is another good possibility since I seem to be able to say the absolute wrong thing at the wrong time on a fairly regular basis. I guess we’ll see. Keep your fingers crossed for me, wouldja?

Also? I think I’ve been assimilated, my pretties. Join the PTO? Check. Sign kid up for cheerleading? Check. Host any kind of sales party? Check. Let’s not talk about the fact that I’m wearing khakis and a white polo to said party, either. I might start crying.

I’m not just going to the basement here; I’ve already been to the basement.