Hobo McDonald's

We had a PTA meeting in a McDonald's we call the "hobo McDonald's." We've been to them all in a five mile radius, because it's the one place the kids can play and my friend Tina and I can drink alot of soda and complain as we play board games. The PTA meeting was actually a pre-PTA meeting with only the top players, me, Hatt, Rangel, Bobert and Jay (those are only one letter off from their real names, now this is like playing "Clue.") It's not that we love PTA, we in fact LOATHE PTA, because it's alot of boring rules and ladies with coats that fit too tightly, but our kids are playing in the playplace and I can eat alot of french fries. Somehow we were talking about the real meeting that is tomorrow and I realized I was the secretary, the world's WORST secretary, because I remembered the PTA book at home under a pile of old homework papers and Christmas receipts, where I hadn't kept track of anything. So instead of freaking about it, I just hunkered down with Rangel (rhymes with Angel, her real name) because we were freezing, and as the real adults talked across the table, we talked about getting jobs on Craigslist. Our cumulative skills consisting of: banana chocolate chip pancakes, dancing to "Thriller", and bath drawer. I was mostly bummed my friend Tina was too busy with her new job and couldn't be there (she was bummed too) but happy because I think Emma's old teacher (she's not old, she's awesome) can get us into Disneyland for free. Next time I'll take a picture of hobo McDonald's. This time I was distracted by newcomer Jay who said, "who's kid is the blonde with the big curly hair?" Who was climbing 15 feet up the outside of the play structure like a baboon? Not mine, uh, no, who WAS that?? (quickly hide all evidence of my 5 yr old wild haired blonde monkey). We all have our skills.