I work in New York City. It's full of nutters. Go figure.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Tuesday August 24th

I was on my way to the subway, wondering why I woke up this morning and knew I'd dreamed of cheese. Then I saw two women walking along the street together. One was blonde (aren't they all?) and cute (ditto?) and radiating all-American health, albeit in a slightly chunky way.

She was holding a cup of Starbucks coffee in her hand and pontificating as she walked. It sounded like Wahwahwahwahwahwah. She's the kind of woman who bores everyone to death at parties about how she can never seem to shift that baby weight. For ten years. She'll never shift that weight. No-one cares.

With her, pushing an angelic blonde baby in a pram was a small, dark hispanic woman. A little bit older maybe, but not much. She looked bored and a little irritated. The nanny, I thought. Oh dear, mummy's got a day off work and decided to spend quality time with her baby.

And the mummy carried on droning on about how she stubbed her toe at a champagne charity gala and had to call the paramedics for an emergency life-saving pedicure and wasn't that just the most awful thing that ever happened to anyone ever in the whole world wahwahwahwah, and the nanny just walked beside her, gritting her teeth.

And I could picture her thinking: "Listen bitch, the pittance you pay me is for looking after your goddamn child. If I have to listen to your Starbucks-fuelled inanities, I charge extra."


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