(Authers note: I will try to post daily.)
I guess mom was pretty proud of herself for making me write in that journal last year(authors note:will try to bring the first one out soon.), because now she went an bought me another one.
But remember how I said that if some jerk caught me carrying a book with "dairy" on the cover they were gonna get the wrong idea? Well, that's exactly what happened today.
Now that Rodrick knows that I have another journal, I better remember to keep this one locked up. Rodrick actually got ahold of my LAST journal a few weeks back, and it was a disaster. But don't even get me started on THAT story. Even without my Rodrick problems, my summer was pretty lousy.
Our family didn't go any where or do anything fun, and that's Dad's fault. Dad made me join the swim team again, and he wanted to make sure I didn't miss any meets this year.
Dad's got this idea that I'm destined to be a great swimmer or something, so that's why he makes me join the team every summer.
At my first swim meet a couple of years ago, Dad told me that when the umpire shot off the starter pistol, I was supposed to dive in and start the swimming.
But what he Didn't tell me was that the starter gun only fired BLANKS.
So I was a whole lot more worried about where the bullet was gonna land than I was about getting myself to the other end of the pool.
Even after Dad explained the whole "starter pistol" concept to me, I was still the worst swimmer on the team.
But I did end up winning "Most Improved" at the awards banquet at the end of the summer. That's only because there was a ten-minute difference between my first race and my last one.
So I guess Dad's still waiting for me to live up to my potential.
In a lot of ways, being on the swim was worse than being in middle school.
First of all, we had to be at the pool by 7:30 every morning, and the water was always FREZZING cold.
And second of all, we were all crammed into two lanes, so I always had somebody on my rail trying to get around me.
The reason we had to use two lanes was because swim practice was at the same time as the Water Jazz class.
I actually tried to convince Dad to let me do Water Jazz instead of swim team, but he wouldn't got for it.
This was the first summer the coach let us boys wear swim trunks instead of those skimpy racing trunks(speedo). But Mom said Rodrick's hand-me-down bathing suit was "perfectly fine."
After swim practice, Rodrick would pick me up in his band's van(Loded Diper). Mom had this crazy idea that if me and Rodrick spent "quality time" on the ride home every day, we wouldn't fight as much. But all it did was make things worse.
Rodrick was always a half hour late picking me up. And he wouldn't let me sit up front. He said the chlorine would ruin his seat, even though the van is something like fifteen years old.
Rodricks van doesn't actually have any seats in the back, so I had to squeeze in with all the band equipment. And every time the van came to a stop, I had to pray I didn't get me head taken of by one of Rodrick's drums.
I ended up walking home every day instead of getting a ride from Rodrick. I figured it was better to just walk the two miles than to get brain damage riding in the back of that van.
Halfway through the summer, I decided I was pretty much done with swim team. So I came up with a trick to get out of practice.
I'd swim a few laps, and then I'd ask the coach if I could use the bathroom. Then I'd just hide out in the locker room until practice was over.
The only problem with my plan was that it was something like forty degrees in the boys' bathroom. So it was even colder in THERE than it was in the pool.
I had to wrap myself up in toilet paper so I didn't get hypothermia.
That's how I spent a pretty big chunk of my summer vacation. and that's why I'm actually looking forward to going back to school tomorrow.