Did I tell you guys that I have stepsiblings on this (my dad’s) side of the family. In my day-to-day life I have always been an only child, but every Christmastime when I would come here to my dad’s for a visit, I temporarily became the youngest of four. I have two older stepsisters who are now both married with child(ren) and a stepbrother, only two years older than I am, who is not married and hopefully has no children. He lives in town with my dad and stepmom, as does the oldest of the two girls, the one who I am closest to.

This stepsister is currently on vacation in CANCUN (bitch) with her husband for a week. So, her ten-year-old daughter is staying with us. With me. IN MY ROOM.

Dun dun dun DUN!!!

Like I said, I’m an only child. For the past two years, I’ve lived alone. I liked this. I like privacy and being able to eat dinner in my underwear. I like having quiet time where I can just sit and not speak to anyone for long periods of time, all the better to work out in my head my plan for eventual world domination.

Hey guys! Guess what? Ten-year-old girls do not give you privacy. They do not give you space. They sure as HELL do not give you silent time for world-dominating-plan-working-outs.

But! Guess what ten-year-old girls do like? They like sneaking up on you when you are on the phone and poking you in the ribs, with both hands, from behind! And they like watching Full House and Family Matters, for hours on end! And they like noticing and pointing out every single flaw on your (apparently haglike) 25-year-old face and body, such as zits and dry elbows and that place on your ankle that you somehow keep missing every time you shave, and which now resembles Harry from Harry and the Hendersons!

Yes! They enjoy doing all this and more!

In summation: I am slowly going insane, and I might just take you all with me.

Now, this girl (MK) is the oldest of the grandchildren, so we all have had a lot of discussions about her and her development over the years. It is openly known, in my family, that she has always been a very sweet and polite kid, but that she is rapidly approaching the Junior High Age of Annoyingness and Bitchery, and so it is the responsibility of all of us stepsiblings to keep her in check and try to keep her from becoming some stereotypical preteen nightmare amalgamation of eye-rolling, thongs, and tube tops.

The clothing thing is working out fine. Her mom, my stepsister, has been really good about refusing to buy her the ho-bag clothes that are so prevalent on American preteens nowadays. Instead, she insists on keeping MK outfitted in longish shorts and flip-flops and t-shirts that actually cover her stomach. So, bravo on that point.

However, the BITCHERY AND POUTING have grown by leaps and bounds since I saw her last, which was only last Christmas! Yea gods, if it should keep increasing at such an exponential rate, I swear I will go postal, and quick.

So, you guys will be happy to hear that I have made a friend in town. She is related to my stepsister’s husband and is 22 and very fun and we have been watching lots of scary movies, swimming, and taming the wildness that is MK together. A few days ago we all went roller skating, on a weekday, at like 10am when the place first opened. It was surreal. Just as I remembered it, the roller skating rink was dark with gazillions of strobe lights and arcade games, only now it has MTV-style pop-rap music blaring while you skate, not the 80s synth-pop of my childhood.

However, it’s like riding a bike: you can take the girl out of the skates, but you’ll never take the skate out of the girl! We zoomed around and around and took photos of each other falling and sang along to the terrible music and tried not to be humiliated by the ever-present 9-year-old boys who skate like they were born on a rink and whizz past you going about 90 miles an hour.

One sad incident I must tell you about: I went up to the high-school-aged boys who were DJing and requested “more Britney Spears, for my little neice” (which was of course a total lie, as it was for my new friend and I, but never mind that), and they answered me back with a “Yes, ma’am.” MA’AM???!

Dear god, the horror, the horror. I am now old enough to be a Mrs. Robinson figure to a high-school boy.

They went on to play one song by Britney and then segued right into “Brick House.” This, my new friend and I decided, was either a nod to the decade in which I was born (’79, thank you!), or an homage to the flattering fit of my bitchin’ t-shirt, and I would like to think it was the latter. Please let me continue to believe this.