So today I was at my extremely stressful and trying job, nannying, and the little girls were hearing knocking noises behind them in the walls. The littlest, who scares very easily, gets extremely freaked out. I told her it was probably just the air-conditioning. This does not ease her mind. When I leggo her eggo we heard it again. She freaked. I told her to calm down, that it was probably a squirrel outside and then I proceeded to fiddle around on my laptop. Next thing I know she is knocking all over the breakfast bar with her fist.
"What are you doing???" I demanded
"I'm trying to contact the spirits"she retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, with a role of her eyes.
Today I got to go to a swim meet. If you ever want to be hot, sticky, feel extremely tense, and gossip with ticked off rich white women, THIS IS THE PLACE TO BE.
Oh hell naw! The swim coach isn't even here yet?! Is this a joke?! Where is a sharpie?! I need to write my childs name on their shoulder blade! Oh shoot, that's Chase's poop face! CHASE, IF YOU POOP IN THAT POOL!!! My child better get to swim backstroke, we have good backs in my family, the best!
Such were the exclamations at the Riverhills Country Club Swim Meet. I sat in the shade reading Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, as well as the latest copy of In Style. Every now and then I would lean over to Mrs. Addie Tude and just say, "Is the coach still not here yet?" That would set her off again.
The best part of the whole swim meet though was when the ghost whisperer came in first in her heat. That little girl half doggie paddled, with no goggles, in a pink frilly suit, while glancing over to see if she was winning the whole time, and she STILL won. I stood on the other end screaming YOU GO GIRL! SWIM, SWIM, SWIM!!! YOU. ARE. WINNING!!! YOU CAN DO IT!!! WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP!!! I got an adrenaline rush watching this extremely slow, freestyle, 5-7 year old swim race. It was amazing. I have never been so proud of child in my life. I had all the moms I had gossiped with rooting for my little girl too. She got out and they handed her the 1st place in the heat ribbon and I'm telling you Mrs. Phelps wasn't prouder than I was. Ok actually she probs was. I mainly wanted to go taunt the other children and rub it in their faces that they lost. I had to leave at that point though. Their mother had gotten there.
Number one question I get about California: So...um... how's the... (whispered) Mary Jane out there?
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