I was feeling a little bit homesick today, so I called my parents just to say hello...and someone new answered the phone at their house.
New Girl: "Hello, Spatula Residence"
Me: "Ummm...this is Energy..."
New Girl: "Oh hi"
Me: "Not to be rude...but who are you?"
New Girl: "I'm Beth"
Me: "Ummm...are my parents there"
New Girl: "No, they're out playing golf"
Me: "And...so...you're answering their phone?"
New Girl: "Oh, no...I'm Molly's babysitter"
Me: "Yeah...just tell my parents to call me when they get home"
New Girl: "Well, they're just gonna come home and change clothes and then they're going to a barbeque, so they probably won't have time"
Me: "Uh, ok. Just tell them Energy called. I'm their daughter"
New Girl: "OK, whatever"
Molly the Satantic Dog has a babysitter. I didn't even get a babysitter most of the time. My parents would either (a) drag me to the Golf Course and force me to caddy for 18 holes (under the "it's good exercise" guise) or (b) buy me some books, preferably something in the Babysitter's Club or Sweet Valley High genre, tell me where the ice cream and Diet Coke were, and take off...because I was "responsible." Oh my god, they have officially gone completely insane. I cannot even begin to fathom how much they are paying this girl to babysit an EFFING DOG. They live in Southern Oregon. It's nice out. They have a ONE ACRE yard with a fence. I am aghast.
Actual Picture of Molly the Satanic Dog