This was my brain, a few weeks ago:
See how pink and shiny it was? You can almost smell the synapses firing merrily away.
But this is my brain now:
No synapses. Only a gooey lovey dovey swirling pink cloud of baby euphoria.
Crack cocaine’s got nothing on Baby Fumes. They’ll fry your whites and your yolks faster than you can say but I have to….wait…what was I going to do?
Admitting that you are powerless over your addiction is step one.
Hello. My name is Jenni, I am a hard-core baby-snuffler. In light of this, I am going to rely on you, my friends, to help me out in my time of need. And I need subject matter.
I also need to say that what I am about to do is highly uncharacteristic of me in the Real World in which I (usually) live. Usually I am reluctant to even answer the question “So how many do you have?” at the grocery store, simply because I Do Not Want To Deal With The Shrieks. I do not want to then dodge (while my ice cream melts) a zillion and one rapid-fire inquiries regarding How Do I Do It.
But for you, my loverly readers, I am putting myself squarely in the cross-hairs. And because I know my ice cream is safely ensconced in my freezer, I will attempt to answer whatever questions you have.
This is your big chance! If you have asked me any questions in my comments before this time and I have not responded, please ask again! If you have been kept awake at night wondering about some aspect of my life, now is the time to unload your burden! If you simply want to know what size underwear I wear, by all means, throw that sucker in the mix!
But I reserve the right to say none of your freakin’ bizness to any of them.