OMG! I went to the racquet club today. They should really call it the “racket” club. HA HA! You wouldn’t believe what a low rent place that is! It’s barely on the cusp of privilege. I mean, I was the LEAST tat2ed person there (having no tat2s – I missed out on that rite too)! Half the cars had bumperstickers promoting Obama, all the rage, I’m sure you’ve heard. One truck spoiled the otherwise burgoise rows of Honda minivans. The bumpersticker on that rattle trap read, “The day they outlaw guns is the day I become an outlaw.” However clever the thought, the sticker had too many words. GLUG!
AND there were fifty bajillion parents from the kids’ schools there. Some of them were totally rad. They say, “Hi!” At least I think they would say that to you if you’d come. Dude! There was a parent there with her chair totally oriented toward the pool as though she was supervising her ankle biter, but PLEASE tell me how she coud do that with her nose in a book. It was a pretentious book at that. Seriously lady, IT’S FREAKIN’ SUMMER!
Also, someone should tell the old bat constantly bugging the lifeguard to COOL IT! I mean, c’mon, lifeguards aren’t there to tell you the time or direct you to the locker room. How can they guard lives if you are jabber jawing at them? All I can say is, YAY to the kids who cannonballed all over her ass! Awesome, they were mine.
The club is not the best place for mere mortals to go hang out. There’s a way ton lots of tan, fit women there in their fancy swimsuits who don’t need the control panel, modesty skirt, and push up bra. Seriously, I GET IT! I’m not as fit as you and even if I were I wouldn’t look like you in that suit. For one thing, I got a topo map on my belly and for another I’ve seen my grandmother in a swimsuit and, believe me, the future is now (& not in a Mirren kind of way).
One last thing, and this is top secret, I grew up in Midwest City with two kick ass bitches for friends. Outside of Purple Rain and John Stamos, there wasn’t much ado about anything. We made up half our abbreviations. I’ll decode a few for you:
The thing is, we were light years ahead of our time. Note writing was just about the only literacy we got, & for one of us that is all too sadly the absolute truth. I needed Norman AND Tucson to get here, just as you needed college generated goth script. Say, if you get a handle on the make-up/hair thing, let me know. Your tips might help me infiltrate the burgoisese.
OH! And BTW, this season is all about accessorizing the bathing suit. So… can I borrow your big ass hammered metal necklace?
Ever your friend, R