It's late, I'm exhausted, and I have no time to get into details. Here's all you need to know:
1. Mr. Z's class is putting on a puppet show.
2. It's Cinderella.
3. He's playing "The Messenger" and "One of the Evil Stepsisters."
4. He needs to bring in the bodies for these characters, sewn, by Wednesday.
5. Guess who gets to do the sewing?
Schools are growing some big ole balls these days, I'm telling ya. Whatever happened to the "Puppet-made-out-of-a-fucking-lunchbag" puppet?! Or "ye olde sweatsock" puppet?! They've got the nards to send home a sewing pattern for TWO characters?! Hey, while I'm at it, why don't I carve a to-scale model of the Prince's castle out of a goddamn redwood?! Because I've got shitloads of time! Yep, just sitting on my fucking ass over here!
So, the old lady said she'd do the "One of the Evil Stepsisters" costume, because 1.) she's got the skizzils to sew on all the extra embellishments and B.) she can actually sew. That left "The Messenger" for me. Super.
We went to JoAnne's fabrics, a fucking bizarro spinstress hangout, the likes of which I've never seen. We grabbed a buncha fabric and doo-dads and narrowly escaped having some rickrack hot-glue-gunned to our foreheads.
Then tonight, while watching the final episode of "Alias" EVER (a fond "Adieu" to you, Sydney and Vaughn) I bondo-ed together "The Messenger," only managing to lose about two pints of blood through wee holes in my fingertips. Here are the results:
Okay, so the old lady's outfit looks way the fuck better than mine, but I can GARE-OWN-TEE that no other dad even attempted to thread a needle, let alone create a regal, messengerian vestment such as mine. It's a little rough, but I'm thinking my little suit-lette might even pass military muster. "Your glass slipper, me lady."
I'm losing my fucking mind.