Enough of that. My 2nd job is just plain awesome. I had the absolute best night there last week. I worked the "beauty" room and yeah, I worked it. It was so easy to get people motivated to spend money on stuff from that room because I was just plain out having fun with them. Engaging customers is one thing, but taking it a few steps beyond makes it feel like I'm not working and they're not being sold something. It's a win/win. Plus, in all my fun, I must have been wearing every scent we had in that store. It's like a toy room. At one point, my manager says, "Ooh, you smell good." I just laughed and replied, "I smell like a French whore!" I'm not sure they know how to take me yet... The point is that I'm pretty happy and comfortable there, and I absolutely love all the girls I work with.
And now for the portion of the show where I confess horrible, awful things. Don't worry, I'll keep sex out of it. Unless I start getting requests. But I ain't no Anais Nin, folks, so be careful what you ask for. Anyway, my first confession is a scary mommy moment. Here goes:
After paying AAA to come out and unlock my truck that the kids locked my keys in (they were cleaning it out for me), we were ready to walk out the door and head to book club. Drake, bless his little heart, was wearing an Easter bucket on his head. Understand that I didn't question this at the moment because he's a kid. Plus, he's a product of Nick & I which pretty much means he's also a weird kid. In the middle of dinner at book club I decide to ask the reason for the bucket. His response was that he just wanted to wear it (imagine as much attitude as possible being thrown from this kid's soul as he's saying this). Pardon me for asking. But Trent decides it's time to fill me in. He says, "Thats not exactly the truth. Feel the back of his head." Sure enough, there's a huge lump. If you are aware of even half the head injuries this child has brought on for himself over the past year, you'd understand why I take these things very seriously. After I explain the severity of the situation, I asked all three of them why no one told me. According to Roz, Drake was jumping off the bed (or something to that effect) and didn't want to tell me he got hurt because he was afraid he'd get in trouble. This would be a result of the fact that he's been told a gazillion times NOT to do that because that's how he continues to get hurt. So, Roz said he was screaming at her not to tell me. Naturally, I asked where I was when all this commotion was going on. Answer? Roz: Oh, you had your headphones in or were on the phone or something. Nice one... Don't worry, I wasn't going to say yes to babysitting your kids anyway. Oh! Almost forgot. While carrying a sleeping Drake out of the house to go home, I banged his head off the door frame. No comment...

Okay, kids. I'm exhausted now somehow, so I'll end this nonsense. Until next time...
A fun read, as always. :)
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