Judging Amy
Shaken, Not Stirred

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Shaken, Not Stirred

The Honourable Amy is standing posed with a clipboard in the middle of a bunch of running kids, counting laps. A sign near her says "Jog-a-thon." Amy gets slightly distracted when she notices an attractive father giving her the eye, and then her pencil breaks. She darts about -- one eye on the kids -- asking all the other parents (while avoiding the attractive father) whether they have pencils or pens. For some reason they don't, so she is reduced to using lipstick. After letting her suffer with Revlon for a bit, the attractive father walks over and offers her his pen. And strangely enough, I'm not being euphemistic about his ball point. He makes some comment about "creative use of materials" and then tells her that the Carnival Committee could use her services. Amy fobs this one off, saying, "No, definitely not. Trust me, you don't want somebody like me." The attractive father introduces himself as "Tom Gillette" and offers his hand. Amy shakes it limply and says "Amy Gray" in a very case-closed tone of voice, which I don't get since she was totally giving him the "come hither" eye not ten seconds ago. Tom doesn't give up that easily and asks her if she's a "Jog-a-thon groupie. Or does one of these belong to [her]," while gesturing at the running mass of children. Amy's face lights up and she says, "That one's mine," pointing at a child who's tripping over her impossibly long and unkempt hair. "She's pretty," Tom comments. Oh, now wait a minute, does he really mean Lauren or does he actually mean Amy? Let's puzzle that one out. Tom continues, saying, "No wonder my Zach is sticking so close. That's him, the little guy with the freckles," pointing out his pride and joy. Amy couldn't possibly look less interested as she glances at Zach and keeps writing on her clipboard. Tom asks why he wouldn't want her on the Carnival Committee, and Amy tells him she's "terrible at things like this." Tom tells her it's because the kids get to have all the fun and then says it "doesn't have to be like that." The next thing you know, Tom has challenged Amy to a race; she tells him he wouldn't want to race her. "Why not?" Tom asks. "Because I'm good," Amy sauces back. That little bit of modesty doesn't deter Tom, so instead of doing her job, Amy races Tom. All the kids cheer (although, if I were Lauren, I'd be annoyed that my mother couldn't even do this one little thing without having to command the attention of everyone in the room). Of course, Amy wins this little sexual-tension race and allows her dinners to come popping conveniently out of her previously zipped-up sweatshirt at the end. She sticks her tongue out at Tom and resumes being the responsible, dedicated parent that she is.

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Judging Amy

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