In my extended family, when the conversation turns to bodily functions (especially poop), I am always blamed. For whatever reasons, this usually happens at the dinner table at our weekly family get-together. Sometimes, it's factual. Other times, it's funny. Every time, I just can't resist an opportunity to talk about BMs. Here's the thing: I spend all day with a 19-month old boy and a large dog (who, I swear, has canine Irritable Bowel Syndrome).
After putting the babe down for his nap this morning, I went to wash my face and glanced over to notice this product on my bathroom counter:
I'd love to meet the marketing/design genius(es) at Gillette who came up with this label. I mean it. Can I have a job?
I'm not sure what bothers me more - the fact that I'm blogging about this, or the fact that I found my daughter's markers to colour in a poop pile on the shaving cream can at the age of 27. Mom would be so proud. (Hi, Ma!)
After putting the babe down for his nap this morning, I went to wash my face and glanced over to notice this product on my bathroom counter:
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| Whatever, right? It's lemon & lime scented shaving cream. |
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| No. My mind sees this. |
I'd love to meet the marketing/design genius(es) at Gillette who came up with this label. I mean it. Can I have a job?
I'm not sure what bothers me more - the fact that I'm blogging about this, or the fact that I found my daughter's markers to colour in a poop pile on the shaving cream can at the age of 27. Mom would be so proud. (Hi, Ma!)
Happy Monday, everyone!
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