Chooch has decided that the theme of his upcoming birthday party is Star Wars, which I suppose is an improvement from “carrots,” because I was having a hard time finding carrot-y decorations. I have less than two weeks to think of non-gory, G-rated ways to entertain a bunch of fucking preschoolers. However, this is not my area of expertise*; my knowledge of Star Wars is very base at best, so suggestions are welcome.
(*Really, if it’s not inside the covers of Alternative Press, a sport played on ice with a puck, anything horror-related, or a show called Degrassi, I’m definitely not your girl. Go ask Google. I know very little about the world around me.)
Things would be so much easier if he had just let me plan Zombie Party 2.0 like I wanted, but this is one of the few times I was able to step away from my inflated ego and admit that it’s not always about me, motherfuckers. (Though it should be.)