The Chronicals of Kalamazoo's upper crust

Usually the intent behind most of my blogs is to vent about something that has annoyed me. This entry is different. This is just a li'l story (a compilation of stories, really) that I've been dying to tell for years. I've never gone public about it, until now. Like Beyonce's body guard, or Madonna's nanny, I was sworn to secrecy. I think the statute of limitations on my gag order has expired. Either that, or no one gives a hoot anymore. Plus, I live like 45 miles from that town now, so.....



Ok, here goes. During my college years, I worked for a professional nanny agency and made BANK doing so. I was the owner's most favorite nanny, mainly because I didn't have visible piercings. I wasn't assigned to just one family, I was assigned on an 'as needed basis' to doctors, lawyers, CEO's, a former Olympic swimmer, orthodontists, college professors & your basic trust fund families. I had a few regular gigs and dozens of odd-ball requests.



There was the traveling business man who requested that I shack up in his Radisson suite with his asthmatic son while he did 'bizna$$' in Kalamazoo. I won't lie, I felt a bit like a prostitute during that particular stint. Except for the sex part, of course.



There was the time a visiting wedding party hired me to attend a reception and keep all the rug rats occupied while their parents got tanked. They basically locked us in a room above the reception with no windows, no ventilation and a 9 inch television & VCR. Sure, the room was equipped with miniature plastic chairs, a few broken crayons and scrap paper. I think at one point a server might have come up to bring us warm water and left over bread sticks. All in all, I felt like I was in some sort of torture chamber. I contemplated hiring Elie Weisel to write a book about my experience. It was very traumatic. Each time the door opened, I half expected a guard to appear with a hose or something. Long story short, I got outta there around midnight and the groom tipped me $50, for my troubles. I would have been happy with a complimentary cocktail. Looking back, I'm sure I helped myself to the open bar before departing. A traveler, if you will.



There was the couple who was engaged to be married and she had a son from a previous relationship. 'She', being a stripper. She met her fiance while working, of course. He was one of the ugliest men I'd ever known; short, fat, a rocking mullet, crooked teeth, high pitched voice, a lisp, the worst! However, he did have some of the deepest pockets I'd ever known. His grandfather basically invented corrugated cardboard. She was my age (21) and he might have even been a year younger than me. On one hand, it was a bit of a pisser working for someone who was my age and lived in a 10,000 square foot house. On the other hand, it paid fairly well, they gave me a Jeep Cherokee to drive while hauling their kid around town. They would take off on extravagant vacations and leave me home with full access to....everything.

The last straw was when it was time for their wedding. They loaded me up and all 4 of us drove to Indianapolis, IN for 4 days of wedding bullshit. I had to accompany her to dress fittings, bridal luncheons, rehearsals, pre-wedding bash, wedding and finally the reception. By the time the wedding rolled around, I was so sick of everyone fawning over the bride, who I secretly knew was a who-er. The groom just sat in his $1,000/a night hotel suite and snorted everything but the kitchen sink while I acted as his bride's personal whipping post. One night, I was in my room and I had my dress hanging up in the closet and my shoes were in the closet. She came into my room (wasted) to fill me in on the next day's events. She eyed my dress & shoes and slurred, "you bitch, you can't look better than me on at my wedding day", and pushed me. She was trying to be playful, so I playfully pushed her back and said, "bitch, I look better than you every day". In hind sight, this might have been what kicked off the demise of my employment. But, I digress.



So, the wedding day arrives and we all get to the church with little drama. I always love a bride who stands outside her limo and smokes cigarettes and drinks beer through a funnel. Good times. Since her son was busy with the wedding party, I was demoted from nanny to bride's assistant. I was instructed to stand at the front of the church and hand out programs, which turned out to be the best seat in the house because I got to see all of their friends arrive with glassy eyes and bloody noses. We get seated. The procession begins. Finally, the church doors fling open and out walks the bride in all her virginal glory. During their vows I snickered and made gagging gestures to the other guests who I befriended along the way. I may have even snorted when the minister made a comment about the bride servicing her husband.



Fast forward to the reception. I'll admit it.... I took full advantage of the top shelf, open bar. It was a simple misunderstanding, really. I thought, since her son was sitting next to her at the head table, I would have the night off. I got ripped. After dinner, the band started and I hit the dance floor. I was shaking my junk all over the place and putting on a show for the videographers. You know that portion of the wedding when the videographers take guests aside and interview them about the lovely couple? Yeah. My better judgement took a back seat at that particular moment and I announced (on camera) that the bride was a "lap-dancing-whore". In my defense, I figured I was golden because the edited tape wouldn't be done until long after the honeymoon, which I'd planned to quit the second they'd returned from their honeymoon. It was a fine arrangement. I did quit, the night they returned from Hawaii, but I've always thought about that video tape. Oh, how I wished I could have seen the couple's reaction to my well wishes!

And finally, I'll end on a high note. The last family that I'll exploit was a dandy!!! They lived in an old bed & breakfast converted into a home. Other than the 400 antique Tiffany lamps placed in every corner of the house, it was a great set-up. I actually loved the house itself, it was the decor that made me crazy. Pastels, dolls, floral print, etc. etc. But, it had every imaginable amenity. A pool. A hot tub. An attic that was decorated to look just like the cabin of a ship, a mother-in-law suite over the garage when they stored "Grammy" until her last days. I'm sure Grammy rotted up there for weeks before someone noticed her MIA. There was the carriage house (for guests). A room exclusively dedicated to her jewelry. Oh, and there was the porn....

For starters, the couple was into the 'lifestyle'. If you're not familiar with that euphemism, it means they were swingers. I put a movie in the vcr one night and the 'movie' portrayed a random couple sitting on a couch. They were talking as if they were interviewing for a job, except, the job was to sleep with their interviewers. They were like, "Hi Dan & Terri....we're Ron & Sally. We like blonds who are slender and into S&M". Immediately, I knew it wasn't Lion King that I had stumbled upon. I'm smart that way. Naturally, I called the chick who owned the nanny agency and we went crazy! This was NOT our first experience with freaks--but it was our first go-round with sex fiends--fascinating! I also made a point to call each and every friend of mine who also worked for the agency, who also babysat for this family. We had our suspicions, but this was too much! As time went on, the wife got more and more open about her lifestyle. There was the life-size nude portrait of her over the bed. (don't forget, Grammy lived with them) There were the nude photo albums that she'd had professionally created for her husband. And now they were bring other couples into the mix. At the time I thought she was a cheap slut. Now, I just think she was a really, really good wife. Notice, SHE had a pool, a closet full of diamonds and a 14,000 square foot house. Hmmm... if I were smart, I'd get right on that train.

Anyway, the kicker came when I promised to put in Aladdin for their 3 yr old and out of the VCR came, "Edward Penis Hands". I was dying! After the boy went to sleep, I totally watched it. It was the husband sitting on the edge of the bathtub and he was pulling his wife's hair and speaking to her in a very domineering manner. I was so turned off.

Meanwhile, 2 hours later, the couple came home. He, a local orthodontist. She, a blond (abeit very weathered) bombshell. She was tanked. He was polite & mild mannered. She signed my time card and filled it out for 3 hours later than it was (thanks, don't mind if I do)! On one hand, I wanted to high-tail it out of there before they made the moves on me. On the other hand, I grew very offended that they never made the moves on me.

And the moral of the story is..... Don't give your nanny's anything to blog about!!!

I'm off to hide my diamonds & porn!!!

~LB

Shut Up Leslie!!!

SHUT UP, LESLIE!!!!

You've gotta take me with a grain of salt. I have no idea what that means, but it seems fitting. Those of you who actually know me, know that I have no filter between my brain and mouth. (Please read blog entitled: Stupid things I say). I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Sometimes, however, the intent of what I say is simply misconstrued, let's say.

I don't usually mean for the things that I say to end up coming out the way that they do. I didn't mean to point out that someone's dress resembled a shower curtain. I didn't mean to tell my neighbor that I rather claw my eyes out with spoons than go furniture shopping with her. And last night at bunko, I certainly didn't mean to blurt out that I will refuse to allow my children to join D.A.R.E. (When my friend insisted that it was part of their curriculum and they needed it to graduate). I didn't mean to get up on my hind legs and rant that I'd write a letter to dismiss them from the program. My reasoning behind this lament was that I don't need the peanut gallery (ie. my children) piping up from the back seat when I drive them around town drunk off my ass.

Obviously, I was completely kidding. I could never, would never and will never drink with my children. Unless it's just to and from the liquor store. I'M KIDDING, settle down. Anyway, I made a bad joke about it because, well....that's what I do. I make bad jokes. I'm inappropriate, I'm crass, I often cross the line. It's what I do. I didn't get a reputation for being a quick -witted hoot, just for sitting with my hands placed politely in my lap. No siree. I'm edgy. ...(long pause), yeah, edgy.

You can either love me or hate me. Fortunately for me, most people enjoy my 'rants'. If they don't, oh well. At least I can laugh about it in the morning. Or at the very least, call Melissa to re-hash it. She shares my dark, inappropriate sense of humor so I mostly amuse her. But, if she thinks I've crossed the line, chances are I've got some follow-up phone calls to make. As Jason would say, "You've got some sssplainin' to do, Lucy". She's my moral compass. Granted, a slightly eschewed compass, but my compass, nevertheless. That Melissa.

And you don't know the half of it. The examples that I've mentioned have only occurred within my social circle. Imagine the horror that I must bring to my husband and his family. And on a regular basis, mind you. In case you're just tuning in....my in-laws are Baptists. Good Christians. Church going, law abiding citizens. Decent humans. No drinking, no swearing (whaaat?) no taking the Lord's name in vain, no hats during prayer, type people. Now...picture me. See my point? I love 'em. Lawd knows I loves 'em. But really? Where my husband finds the strawnth to take me out into public with him, I'll never know. And he forgives me too! I can usually keep in under lock & key at family reunions and holidays...but whew---invite me to a wedding? Forget about it.

First of all, I guar-an-tee I will be strategically placed as far away from the head table as humanly possible. Second, I guar-an-tee I will, at some point, request that the Dj play, "Erotic City" by Prince and lastly, you can bet your sweet ass that if the reception is at a fancy joint and the ladies room has one of those cute little 'amenities' basket on the counter with mouthwash, a sewing kit and some (ahem) feminine-products-starting with -the-letter-T, in it....Then, I can GUAR-AN-TEE I will pass them out to people at the reception while saying, "Cigarette? Cigar? Cigarette? Cigar?". Trust me, I've done it! This I promise you! Just ask my sister in law! I even have the photo to prove it. (Note the smeared mascara under my eyes) Proving my point ONCE AGAIN, that you can dress me up, but you can't take me out. Well, you can, but not without scrutiny.

So, I say, make a splash. Have some fun! Laugh until your mascara smears!!!

~Leslie

Walmart (sigh)

I hate Walmart. No, I mean I HATE that place. I live about 25 minutes from the nearest Walmart and I haven't been there in probably 2 years. Yesterday was Sunday and I was browsing the Sunday paper and all it's flyers, World Market, Target, what have you. I guess I got wrapped up in Walmart's sunny, colorful ad. It showed good looking children splashing in a pool. It showed a lovely mother pouring lemonade out of a bright orange pitcher. I saw thick, cotton beach towels and the cutest brown & gold bikini I'd ever seen (for less than $80 anyway). I'll admit, I got carried away and I committed my own cardinal sin. The ad caused me to experience temporary insanity and I forget everything I'd learned over the years...and I did it. I went to Walmart.



Ever been to Walmart on a random Monday afternoon? You would have thought they were giving away houses. My God, the mob scene. The minute I'd entered through the doors, I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. It had all come back to me. The wholesome images from the ad washed away and I was reminded of why I avoid that store like the plague.



I spent the shortest amount of time possible in the store, but the people in there move soooo slowly, that it's difficult to manuever quickly through the aisles. I needed maybe 5-7 things (I made a bee-line for checkout after I'd gotten 2). I was on a mission to find a stainless water bottle. Apparently re-using plastic ones is a big no-no. Who knew? Something about running plastic through the dishwasher causes cancer or something, I don't know. Nevermind that my son has been drinking out of recycled plastic water bottles for the better part of 3 years...so, whatev, I went to recify the situation at Walmart. No luck. Of course. What I did find, however was the following:

• child abuse
• vast tobacco usage
• many piercings
• teenage mothers with no less than 15 Tony's Pizza boxes in her cart
• tattoos
• gang members
• obesity
• a fight in the parking lot
• soda in baby bottles
• m&m's qualifying as 'lunch'
• an African American baby with air Jordans that cost more than a couch-- I'm sure-- yet his gangsta father paid in food stamps
• a mother picked up her baby's pacifier off the floor then handed it back to the baby
• a Hispanic family loading up on fireworks while telling their children they couldn't get cereal
• the coupon nazi in front of me at the check out
• and finally, the seemingly homeless woman who parked next to my car and stood there smoking her cigarette and refused to move while I was trying to buckle in my 4 year old

All so I could save a buck???? Never again. Ever. I'd rather buy toilet paper at Barney's than to go through that again. It's equivalent to the people watching at a State Fair. (shudder).