They say one day a meteor will strike the Earth,
obliterating life as we know it,
but it's not coming soon enough to help me.
You see, my neighbor, Fat Pam,
is giving up and moving to Vermont.
She's had enough of the skinnies in this town,
and once Fat Pam is gone, I am going to be the s--
Anna-Kat! Do not pee in the yard!
Mom, I've thought about it,
and I refuse to participate
in the school food drive on principle.
And what principle is that?
Westport homeless people have better stuff than we do.
Nude Norman rides a bike that's worth more than our car.
And when he does wear clothes,
they're Ms. Halloran's cashmere hand-me-downs.
It's a little thing called charity, Oliver.
It's the worst thing for him.
Nude Norman isn't gonna get a job
if it's open season on free cans of creamed corn.
I'm not gonna lie to you --
We boned it pretty bad with this one.
Oliver has one goal in life -- to be rich.
And it sure doesn't help that we're living here in Westport, Connecticut.
It's the kind of town
where people have big houses and tiny butts,
where every idiot has a boat and a Labradoodle.
I'll make it easy for you.
Here's a Labradoodle on some idiot's boat.
Then there's us -- We're renters.
We're here because Westport has a great public school
with special programs for our Anna-Kat...
I'm getting great at peeing outside.
...who just might need a little extra help.
Anna-Kat has a touch of the anxieties.
Not Rain Man anxiety,
but it's not in the family newsletter.
She's my favorite.
That's right -- I said it.
I said it in my head.
You need to read my report and check my work.
I was in the charge of the Trail of Tears diorama,
which I nailed.
The solar system project is all Dad.
My husband Greg, at rest in his natural habitat.
Mommies of the world, I ask you --
what would happen if we all took
a leisurely half-hour dump every morning?
What about the plops?
I don't want to hear any plops.
Easy-peasey chicken squeezie.
I can still hear!
Now, don't come out until you get those signed.
This is Taylor, my oldest,
whose life has been one, long awkward phase
until last Thursday when the Boob Fairy
paid her a visit.
I used to look like that.
Let's see what she looks like after three kids.
She's growing up so fast.
How are you stocked for feminine things?
And I really don't want to hear
another one of your bled-through-my-pants stories.
Hey, my mother never talked to me about any of this stuff.
I spent half of sixth grade
with a sweat sock in my underpants
convinced I was dying.
Yeah, that's a lie.
It happened to this Pakistani girl I used to know
who was raised by her grandfather.
Would now be a good time to ask for a pet owl?
I don't know if there's ever a good time for that.
Tell your mom thanks for sending you in here
for this quality daddy-daughter toilet time.
安娜凯特 亲爱的 关门
Anna-Kat, close the door, honey.
Close the door, baby.
Anna-- Ah, forget it.
Oh, Fat Pam, why are you abandoning me,
my jolly, plus-sized, ham-ass neighbor?
Oh, God. Here comes Nude Norman.
He's not naked.
Yeah, well, to be fair to him, it was only that one time.
For the love of all things, where was I?
Once Fat Pam is gone, I am going to be
the second-fattest housewife in Westport.
Damn you, Fat Pam.
Have a good day, sweetie.
Remember how Dr. Ellie taught you
to do that little secret thing with your fingers
to relax yourself?
Try that today.
Oh, God help her.
Ugh. Westport mommies.
Flat stomachs, tight, high asses,
thighs that don't touch,
and those stupid green drinks.
Not only is Taylor growing up,
but she's growing up to be one of them.
My full-time job is to make sure
two of my kids fit in less and one fits in more.
You have something on the back of your shirt.
I thought it came out in the wash.
How did you get a pizza stain on the back of your shirt?
I was either wearing it backwards when I ate the pizza,
or I'm wearing it backwards now.
I love you, Katie.
You're so real.
"You're so real" Is Westport Mommy Code
for "You shouldn't be eating that or driving that,
and I saw you unbutton your pants at that stoplight."
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