Last weekend DemiGoddess the Younger spent an afternoon at the Mall of America (insert cat-hacking-up-hairball sound clip here) with a group of her friends. The next day she announced that, after much searching, she had finally found a perfume that she wants to purchase. Because it smells soooo good.
“But,” she said, “it’s kind of an embarrassing brand.”
“Was it JLo perfume?” I asked.
“No. More embarrassing.” She said.
“What could be more embarrassing than JLo perfume?”
“Britney Spears perfume.”
“Oh. Oh, no. Are you seriously going to tell your friends at school, when they ask what you’re wearing, that it’s Britney Spears perfume?”
“I’ll just tell them it’s hairspray.”
That’s my girl. When in doubt, lie to save face.
“What does it even smell like?” I asked. “Bald people?”
That earned a snort from DemiGoddess the Elder.
“Well, I thought it would smell like Red Bull and Cheetos, but it doesn’t. It smells really good.”
“I know what it doesn’t smell like,” said Demi the Elder, who, apparently, had been waiting patiently for her intro.
(Thank you, you’ve been a great audience. We’ll be here all week.)