I'm a "daddy's girl". No doubt about it. <br><br>Today at softball practice I was doing INCREDIBLE in my position, and what does my coach do? He puts the most inexperienced, not-the-best player in my spot out of no where and sticks me in right field. <br><br>Uh, hello?!<br><br>Then our starting catcher, who thinks she the most incredibleawesomecoolestbestgreatest thing in the world, starts yelling and trying to be the big shot of the team during the scrimage against eachother. Really? I don't need you telling me that I need to move up in the box to bunt when I'm supposed to lay down a slap down first base when I'm not supposed to. I.Know.What.To.Do. <br><br>So I get home and mom tells me to try on shorts to see if they still fit, since I'm going to South Carolina in about 2 weeks. I had literally just walked in the door all angry and trying to contain myself.<br><br>Mom: "So how was practice?"<br>Me: -grumbles under breath- "Bad."<br>Mom: "Why?"<br>Me: "Because Mom, it was just bad."<br>Mom: "Would you tell me why it was so bad?!" (she has now raised her voice)<br>Me: "BECAUSE! Coach made me mad, stuck -her name here- in MY spot and all -catchers name here- was YELL and boss everyone around!!! THAT'S WHY!" (I said this from the hallway, she was in her room.)<br><br><br>I'm rather sick of everyone saying how their mom is their best friend. <br><br>I'm a daddy's girl and I get along WAAAY better with my dad.<br><br>-sigh-
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m y . p h o t o b u c k e t . a c c o u n t
m y . p h o t o b u c k e t . a c c o u n t
Semper Fi.
10.31.10 ❤</span></div>
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