TRAUMA

OOOhhhhhhhh I had suuuch a hard day yesterday.



The torture began the moment my eyelids fluttered open at 8:00 am. I had had a pretty rough night. I didn't get to bed until 9pm the night before, so as you can imagine I was still not quite ready to be awake yet. But, much to my chagrin, my empty belly would not allow me the luxury of snoozing a little bit longer. Hunger was gnawing at my vacant gut and I had nothing within my reach with which to satiate this excrutiating pain. Where was my servant?! (Yup, I sure do have a servant, they are great, I HIGHLY suggest you get one for yourself) Why did she not predetermine this need and have sustenance waiting for me when I awoke? Did she not care if I shrivel up and died of starvation?! So I did what any reasonable person would do: I cried.



Think what you will of me, but it got me what I wanted. My servant came RUNNING and within moments I was at the table with a nice bowl of Marshmallow Matey's waiting for me to dig in. I devoured the sugar encrusted dream that was my breakfast (I may have cracked a tooth or two in the process I might add) and when I was done I promptly threw my nearly empty bowl on the floor. What? I said thank you! But what did my hideously ungrateful servant do? She yells at me. Something about making a mess... yadda yadda yadda. I was much too hurt to focus on a word she said. Honestly, sometimes I think she speaks alien! See where this is going?! My life is such a mess!



Then it was time to get dressed. Oh, what to wear?! How do you choose when you are as cute as I am? I finally settled on the perfect outfit and threw myself on the floor so my servant could dress me. UUuuuuugh... don't you hate it when they tickle you and blow on your belly when they are dressing you?! Oh... mine doesn't do that either. Anyway, I spent about 20 minutes admiring myself in the mirror and then I was off to the business of my day.



This is where the REAL catastrophe began. I had responsibilities to tend to, and people were taking my stuff! Seriously! I couldn't find ANYTHING! I screamed for my servant to come right away and find my pirated belongings, and....she....told....me.....JUST A MINUTE. AAAHHHH seriously, no one cares. So I cried again. My servant was definitely annoyed and muttered her alien jibberish under her breath, but whatever, I got what I wanted. She can't stay mad at me and she knows it. I flashed her my best grin and all annoyance disappeared. Good girl. I've trained her well. Now if I could juuuust train her to be more prompt. And to read minds, that would be great too.



Well, it was definitely a rough morning so I needed a little rest. I had already been up for about 4 hours!!! I melted into my luxurious mattress as soon as I touched down. I was just entering dreamland when all of the sudden I was awakend by something squidgy and uncomfortable. Oh no, I pooped my pants again. Drats. Wouldn't YOU cry if you pooped your pants right as you were just getting comfortable. Don't lie, I know you would. And I did. My servant kept yelling through my door for me to stop crying and go to sleep. Excuse me, how do you go to sleep with this stuff in your pants? How embarrasing. She finally gave in and helped me clean up and it was back to sleep.



The rest of my day was a stressful blur waiting for what I wanted, not getting my way, and flying food. Did I mention a lot of tears? Stress will do that to you. So will bonking your head on the floor when you throw yourself down on the ground in an effort to illustrate your immediate life or death need to someone that JUST DOESN'T GET IT. Mine is an exhausting life. Good help is so hard to come by.



The end of the day finally arrived. I had survived, though barely. I can't even begin to imagine the trama that awaits me when I wake up in the morning. Maybe my servant will step it up tomorrow and start determining my needs before I have to throw a fit. Someday she'll learn.



The story you have just read is true, the events are accurately depicted as they took place... the star of the story: no, it wasn't me, I will give credit where credit is due. Little Miss Thang (or Paris Hilton... same difference) plays the role of martyr.



Although I didn't actually poop my pants a little pee may or may not have leaked out when I laughed at little missy painstakingly checking out her belly button in the mirror...but who can be sure.

The moral of this story:

LIFE IS HARD WHEN YOU ARE 1 1/2.