Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The garden was a kaleidoscope of pastel eggs, yet an unmistakable stench was wafting over the tulips like a mischievous cloud of teen rebellion. “Cory, do you smell that?” Felicity whispered, the same way a detective would whisper about a clue in a noir film. I inhaled deeply, feeling the pungent aroma coil around my nostrils. We both knew that somewhere among the plastic toy eggs hid the source of this olfactory offense.

I never thought an Easter egg hunt could turn into a forensic diaper investigation but there we were. Both Felicity and I were swaddled in our favorite sexy “Mama” dresses and armed with nothing but our noses and an absurdly over‑ambitious sense of duty. We started at the base of the old oak tree and followed the scent trail like a pair of highly trained sleuths. Each step brought us closer to a whiff of something that could only be described as “rotten booty.”

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Mr. Stinky Pampers Earns A World Record

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

I’d written into the world record book about Mr. Stinky Pampers. I explained that there has never been a baby who has ever smelled as badly as he does. They contacted me back to say we’d been selected to meet with a judge, and she would decide if he earned the world record for Stinkiest Diaper. I was terribly excited, I mean, what’s the point in being so smelly if you aren’t recognized for it, right?

It was mid-morning when the Judge knocked on the door. She seemed very professional-looking in a hot, MILF-Y way. She had on a high-waisted pencil skirt and crisp, white button-up blouse. Her thick-rimmed glasses scrunched up her nose when I opened the door, and Mr. Stinky Pamper’s smell assaulted her senses. “Peeyouuu!” She waved her notebook in front of her nose. “It’s worse than I thought.”

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Stinky Mr. Pampers Wrecks Our Brunch

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

There are many ways to enjoy a weekend, but one of my favorites is inviting the girls over for brunch. Mercedes and Diana are such great company; boy, can they gossip! We huddle around the little patio table, sharing tea and cock stories while stuffing ourselves full of little biscuits and cookies. Normally, that’s how our bottomless mimosa brunches go, but today, I was stuck babysitting Mr. Stinky Pampers.

If you’ve been around here for a bit, then you’ve probably figured out how this stinky winker got his nickname. HE is one of the smelliest babies around! Oh, sorry, I mean smelliest BIG BOYS, around. The girls and I were talking about the latest stud Mercedes had bent over her bed while Mr. Stinky Pampers was playing with his little toy trucks. Or so we thought he was playing… Until the smell hit us!

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What's That Smell?

Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270

A Mother’s work is never done! After the Holidays, when everyone else is playing with their new toys or sleeping off a food-induced coma, Mama is cleaning up.

Stuffing ripped wrapping paper into trash bags and washing the mountain of dishes left behind after the feast. Never mind tackling the decorations that took hours to put up. Somehow, they take longer to take down! I was crawling under the tree to unplug the lights when I took a big, frustrated inhale, and PHEWWWOuuUIIEEEeee! What’s that smell?

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