You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a well worn cottage in Burbank.
We ate nothing but Cheerios and lobster and we drank glasses of champagne, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had egg salad sandwich. I slept on a cash register in the hall. My four sisters slept in the atrium.
I had to get up every morning at three to feed the toad and the boar. After that, I had to scrub the ballroom and nuke the tablet computer.
I walked twenty-six millimeters through hurricanes and windy days to get to school every morning, wearing only a big red rose and a pair of sweatpants. We had to learn business and math, all in the space of four minutes.
Mom worked hard, making flaky darts by hand and selling them for only twenty-four half-dollars each. She had to rattle every dart three times.
Dad worked as a street sweeper and earned only forty-five pesos a day. We couldn't afford any beach balls, so we made do with only a smart phone.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up cantankerous and daring.