FFS?! Friday : the post-birthday edition

Got my whiny pants on today, you've been warned.

So this week I turned 25 for the 9th time, including the actual time I did turn 25 for the first time.  I've decided that next year, to mark my 10th 25th, I'm going to celebrate in style.  I'm not sure how, but it will involve a cocktail slushie machine and elastic waisted pants for my own comfort.

And dim sim's and dim sum.  Yes I know the difference, that's not a typo.  I just want both.  After all, it's not every  year  day you turn 25 again.

Pity Partay
Dress code : Elastic waisted pants mandatory
Who's in?

Having said that, if things don't improve, I may bump the party up to now and re-brand it as my very own personal pity party.

So...

I did not receive a Nespresso for my birthday.  A shirtless George Clooney did not knock on my door with a smouldering grin.  Sigh.  FFS!?

Warning : The following may gross anyone  everyone  out, and totally qualifies under the banner of TMI....

Miss2 crapped in the shower on my birthday.  Normally the twin tornado have a bath.  Normally, they crap in a nappy like other 2yr olds and elderly Depends wearers.  Instead, while they had a shower for a change, Miss2 crapped in the shower and treated it like Playdoh.  In other words : something to be man-handled and crafted into various small objects.  FFS!?

I slipped in while trying to pick it all up with a fistful of baby wipes.  Slipped. In.  Holy mother of Vodka did I cry like a toddler.  Complete with fist pound on the shower floor...which only saw my person come into direct contact with Miss2's crap once again, FFS!?

Miss2 crapped three more times within an hour.  If she'd just advised me of her plans, I could've taped her to the kiddy potty and waited for it to all be over.  Instead, I had to clean up crappy nappies for over 40 minutes.  On my birthday.  I'm telling you, she is an evil genius and she was doing it deliberately.  FFS!?

Don't know why I felt the need to specify that it was a kiddy potty.  We don't have an adult potty.  Just in case you were wondering.

Mst2 crapped within 15 minutes of Miss2 shutting up shop with the waste disposal, FFS!?

When #1Hubby got home, I was all "woe is me" over my literally crappy birthday, intending to earn an early reprieve to the sanctity of my bedroom,  cask  bottle of wine in hand...until he asked what they'd eaten all day to warrant such craptastic crapping, and Miss2 totally killed the sympathy credits I was earning, by advising her father that she had chippies for lunch.  And a babycino.  With marshmallows.  And also muffins.  FFS!?

Please send the waaahmbulance.