The Public Pool and Other Horrors of society.

                     

So it's 45343243 degrees Fahrenheit. Your child is melting at the family computer uttering   such favourites as "I'm BOR-ED" and "What can I DO?!?" Meh. Climb a tree! Find a stick and   poke something, kid! To prove my motherly point I myself venture outside. It was about 4 seconds of sunny bliss before the rivers of sweat started infiltrating my lady bits and hairline. Okay, D, you win this round. A duffel bag and a change of attire left us pool ready and off we went.

We graced a Wendy's with voracious appetites for square, thin, greasy beef and *angelchorus~here~* Frosties. Let me say a few words about Frosties for those not in the know. They are nectar of the God's and I could eat those fucker's three, perhaps four meals a day. If you've not partaken- do. Now. Like, get in your car and go get one; open until 1am or later people, you have no excuse.

If I could fornicate with a food product, it would be Frosty here.

So we munch and arrive at the public pool. A swarm of hormonal teenage boys hoping to catch a glimpse of nip scatters the parking lot and I *sigh*, not because I am annoyed by them but because I am no longer the slip of of boob they seek. A moment of silence, please.

Fun was had by all in our watery playground of bacteria laden public showers and foam noodles with unsettling amounts of bite marks. What do the lifeguards DO when we all go home? Just when you think you're safe in the water in marches Poolzilla. You all know her, she haunts all cheap admission public water centers and yet...only grows larger and crankier. I suspect she feeds on children but I'm no expert. I'll Wiki that shit later. Here is a visual aide so you can fully appreciate my pain:

What's funny to me is this woman looks happier than those I've encountered but I suspect that's how she lures her prey. 

Poolzilla is not defined by any one attribute; not always heavily overweight nor exceedingly old but rather a general combination of larger size, middle aged or older and most importantly- MEAN. God forbid she nearly knock you to the ground while barging through a set of pool stairs because you KNOW that shit is your fault. She hates children yet surrounds herself with them and can often be found eating Pringles and (Irony alert) Diet Coke poolside after a busy day of grunting and acting generally miserable. 

In other news Ripper was particularly clever today. Let me note that 5pm my time is 1am his time.

4:57 pm

R: ~Skype rings three times and he hangs up as I answer~

Me: *Messaging* Baby, did you try and call me?

R: No, my Skype crashed. Not sure what's going on with it.

Me: Why are you up at 1am?

Me: I started a blog!

R: What about?

Me: Don't have a clue yet. Shit. Stuff.

R: Well good luck with that endeavor.

Me: Who the Hell spells endeavor correctly out of a dead sleep at 1am?

R: The same guy who spells it incorrectly at 4pm.

Well played sir, well played. I love this guy.Wish him luck today slugging corpses around and trying to yank pantyhose on someone's 82 year old grandmother. 

• On a side-note: If you lose a loved one, and you liked them in the least, don't defile them by thinking giving the Undertaker pantyhose or bras of any kind you think they should be wearing. Trust me when I say you do NOT want to know what it takes to get Aunt Cathy into those precious pink stockings.