As all things do, it all began so innocently...
I'm going to make Fancy Nancy cupcake toppers for Nora's Fancy Nancy themed birthday party! This is going to be a cute and economical way to make the small touches to her party awesome! A friend took the time to create the super cute images for me, I just have to print them out and use the hole punch she gave me. Easy peasy!
OK. Having some problems with the printer. It's not happy with the card-stock.
Got it to print on the G*d D#!N card-stock, now I'm going to use the hole punch.
Crap, it keeps cutting off the image weird. How do you get this stupid paper to sit in the hole punch correctly?
Christ on a bike! I need to make more copies because I ruined all of them trying to use the hole punch.
Text equally craft challenged friend to let her know I'm near tears over cupcake toppers. She assures me I'm still a good person.
MOTHER TRUCKER!!!!!!!!!!!! THE PRINTER!
Printed them out again. Phew.
HOLE PUNCH I HATE YOU.
Dog is now eating the scraps all around me as I sit and stare in wonderment at the hole punch thing-a-ma-doo, thinking about the fact that the friend who nicely created the topper images for me will be at the party tomorrow and see first hand that I'm a dill hole.
Google "how to use the Fiskars hole punch" and be led to a site giving them praise for being so user friendly that arthritic elderly people use them with ease.
Feel a hatred towards Fancy Nancy that I've never experienced towards any other person.
Text husband that I can't be all things to all people: He's had to travel for work this week, I've had sick children, a birthday party, Christmas cookie exchange and Christmas party stuff to handle for the last week. I AM BUCKLING AND THE CAKE TOPPERS WANT TO KILL ME!
Husband texts me back and asks me to put the hole punch down.
Call Walmart and ask them to add sprinkles to the cupcakes that I ordered since they will have no cupcake toppers.
End the experience by contemplating that whenever I've seen Martha Stewart's daughter being interviewed, she comes off as cold and dour.
Pat my own back that I'm not like Martha Stewart and instead have lovely, happy daughters. Feel smug.
Write blog about this experience because that is one thing I can do.