Swim Me

It’s bloody hot outside.

All I want to do everyday when I get off work is find a swimming hole to dip my sweaty butt in. Seriously, by the time I drive home for thirty to forty minutes in traffic with an air-conditioning unit in my car that only works well if I’m accelerating to 50+ mph, you can see the swass stains through my clothes. If that isn’t attractive enough, I’ll throw swack and sweg stains in there too because I’m not trying to impress anybody. I’m thinking of conducting a science experiment to see if I can melt into my leather seats if I turn the butt-warmers on in my car. Anybody want to sponsor me?

Anyway, swimming is my master plan every day. The problem is, I don’t know very many people who think like me. (Great minds think alike, and my mind is pretty freakin great, so…) Most of my friends just want to go home and lie on their couch, spread-eagle with a fan blowing the hot air in circles around their over-heated body. I tried that last Sunday. The only problem is that lying on my couch in my underwear doesn’t work any better than driving around in my car—my couch is black. And it’s leather. And the same thing that happens in my car happens at home—I eventually have to use a human-size spatula to pry my skin from the seat every time I want to get up to eat another popsicle. Not my idea of a cool time.

After potentially thinking about everyone I possibly knew who had a pool that I could swim in, I called Gen and struck gold. Gen’s friend Em (I swear that’s not a joke) is house sitting for the biggest house I’ve ever laid eyes on. Apparently, it’s the home of one of the three inventors of the cell phone, Steven Hooper. Ever heard of him? I hadn’t either, but it’s a good thing the guy’s rich cause otherwise I could see his fate taking him elsewhere in life. Hence the really tacky patches of hair on both sides of his bald-ass head. (There has to be a name for those.) Perhaps Rogain could merge with this dude's company and then he really would have everything. Please take a minute to point and laugh.

Located in Hunts Point, the first exit off 520, I’m guessing this house is easily worth 10 million dollars. Upon arrival, we opened the door into a sprawling marble entryway with a chandelier and staircase that wrapped upstairs. Not too shabby. Personally, my favorite part of the house was the patio overlooking Lake Washington with a private dock, heated swimming pool, hot tub, yacht, jet skis, and lounge chairs for days. I’m secretly hoping the entire family gets offed while on their European vacation and Emily can live there forever. Farfetched? Nah. I mean, O.J. got away with it.

After taking a dip in the pool and lounging dockside while sipping our glasses of wine, we decided to explore the mansion. Ok, so approximately .5 percent of the population in Seattle lives like this, so don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to snoop around either. I’ve never seen a house with so much shit. These people seriously don’t have anything to do with their money besides buy stuff. Really though, cabinets were filled with porcelain figurines, the daughters (who were in college mind you) had 20 stuffed animals, six Tiffany’s boxes, eight collector Barbie dolls, two Princess Diana dolls (creepy), closets full of clothes with the tags on, Coach bags, multiple pairs of Seven jeans, two iPods, and just plain junk everywhere. Both girls were ballerinas, girl scouts, and students at private colleges. Go figure. The kitchen had two drawers full of cookie cutters, one drawer full of wooden spoons, cabinets and shelves full of coffee cups, a separate cupboard dedicated to Christmas kitchenware, a painted portrait of the family dog (super creepy), and for the final icing on the cake…a drawer of wishbones. I’m not joking you. Wishbones from chickens or whatever animals those things come out of. A whole fucking drawer of them. Please tell me who saves a drawer full of wishbones. Isn’t it customary to pull them apart as soon as you find them in whatever bird you’re eating for whatever occasion? Freaks.

Things You Can Conclude From This Story:
It's hot.
I want to go swimming.
Next time you see a bald man at the checkout counter buying a basket full of game hens, go ahead and yell, "What's up Hoop!"

Currently Feeling: A little nervous for my pseudo date tomorrow. Will it happen?
Currently Anticipating: Floating down the river, Barcycling, Amanda coming home on Friday.
Currently Reading: Books for my new book club!