Needing a little afternoon pick-me-up, I scaled the stove to the high shelf and got down the Halloween loot already collected from the “Boo’s”.    

SERIOUSLY?????????????????   Here’s what’s left after my ‘associates’ have infiltrated the bag:

 Jolly Ranchers— mini ones. Not worth the time to try and peel the paper off the Rancher cuz you KNOW how they always stick to it and you end up eating more paper than sugar.

Tootsie Pops—mini ones. “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?”  I DON’T CARE.

Tiger Pop—What the he** is this??? Some low-budget, poor-man’s Charm Pop?

Smarties— No, Thanks since I’m not 7 years old and we didn’t visit the drive-up teller at the bank.

Tootsie Roll— Ya know what, I only have 5 teeth left than aren’t filled or capped. I’ll just keep them, K?

Atomic Fireball—Who decided to take a nasty diarrea-producing condiment and turn it to a candy?

Pixi Stix— Here’s a plan: don’t package Kool Aid in a straw and tell me it’s a Halloween candy.

Jill

I wasn’t asking for the world!— like Peanut M & M’s or Almond Joys. Jeezo, I would have settled for a Kit Kat and I’m not even a Kit Kat guy… At this point, I’d be happier to find a toothbrush or box of raisins in this lame bag than the Oh So Pedestrian Clark Fruit Gumball.

I would like to preface this post by saying I hear weird noises in my house. I hope whomever it is is just a nomadic waiter looking for a place to stash a pulled pork sandwich (with pickles). If it’s a bad guy and I perish, Kristin, I’m sorry about the time I made you crash into that mailbox on your bike…..

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The annual Pumpkin Patch visit is very big. And, No, NOT because it provides the kids with pumpkins and hot spiced cider and fall-ish memories.   Pumpkin Patch is one of the most important photo ops of the year. Right after Santa’s lap. 

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Dear Diary,

Wow! Being a fashion designer is harder work than I had expected.  I spent most of the week sending care packages of Hello Kitty band-aids to the plant in Cambodia where the NotSoSoccerMom merch is made– to mend the bleeding fingers of the 8 year olds who sew them.

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If I had that same ailment, this morning at the gym, I would have sounded something like this:

 To lady on the treadmill in front of me: “Don’t you turn GameShow network! Jeopardy is coming on. What are you? A member of the Taliban? Respect the Trebek!!!”

 To the skinny chick who runs really fast, busts out 30 REAL push-ups and who is (Quel Disaster!!!) also naturally pretty and could show up in a potato sack and look gorgeous:  ”Would you like to come over for dinner? I am serving Pork Rind Pie and Cream Cheese Puffs and Lard Fritters with cookie dough martinis.”

 To the tanned,gold- chained guy with a child’s face tattooed on his right arm:  ”Oh, is that the little Dalai Lama-looking kid from The Golden Child? I LOVED that movie, too!”

 To the weight-lifter guys who are always over there, not really lifting and instead checking people out and undoubtedly talking about locker room things:  “Junior High called and you are to report back.”

Jill

I bet they’d have something to say to me, too. Probably about washing my hat— or hair.  Well, they can post that on THEIR own site. This is MY Jim Carrey movie spin-off blog.

Naturally curly frizzy hair & filthly hat included in NotSoSoccerMom Halloween costume for only $20 extra plus S & H.