Monday, July 21, 2014
Earth angel, earth angel, will you be mine...
Welp, I think I can safely say "Earth Mama Angel Baby New Mama Bottom Spray" was one of my more humiliating purchases to date. If one were smart, one would order this sort of thing online and have it arrive discretely at one's doorstep, preferably with some sort of label that clarifies "this is in no way a witch-hazel spray for easing a painful caboose-stitch, nope nope nope." But alas, one was not so smart as all that, and instead one found herself in the local crunchy-granola store plopping the milk bottles onto the checkout belt along with the bottom spray for the tattooed pierced hipster dude to ring up.
"Do you want a bag for these?"
I don't know if he heard the desperation in my voice or not, but at any rate, I high-tailed it out of there. High-tailed is, just to be clear, a rear-related joke there. You're welcome.
And there's still one burning question I have about the whole trip. When I went there, they had a tester bottle. Like one of those little mini-bottles of the stuff with an obvious TESTER sticker on it. Who is testing that in the store? And on what?
At least the stuff works. I'll give it that. The name is horrifying, but it works.
(And hey, thanks to that screenshot, not only do you know about the indignities raining down on my life, you also know that when Patrick and I talk about sending off checks for bills, it is always a sexy conversation. Aren't you thankful for my blog?)
*So not a sponsored post. Because I have some dignity left. I think. ? And yet, here I am...