A/N: Firstly, I didn't even check to see if there is any "The Nanny" ff on here. This is based on that show. It's of course a Twilight fic. I own absolutely nothing. Not even the Jewish part, it's all coming from the internet. If I jack something up, I am sorry, please help me. And I mean no disrespect to the show, the movie, or to Jewish people. I've got a beta (Slcurwin) who may quit soon because this story is going to be just so crazy. . . This isn't going to be one full of awesome plot or epic battles. It's going to be cozy, comfy, fluffy, funny, and fahklumpt. Also, it will be a HEA, I'm sure if you've seen the show - or not - you'll totally guess where this is going. Chapters will PROBABLY be short.

No disrespect to Pierce Brosnan, Andrew Lloyd Webber, or the cast of The Nanny. Hell, I should also say no disrespect to the Twilight characters as well, but unless Stephenie Meyer is reading I don't think they'll even know I'm using them right now! LOL! AND, on a super serious note: I'm serious, no disrespect to anyone from the Jewish community. Personally I've fallen in love ever since the show The Nanny was brought to my attention years ago. I'm only using 'slang' terms and once again, if I mess it up let me know. Thanks muchly! *End disclaimer for the ENTIRE story, thanks!*

Slcurwin is not involved in this chapter. I couldn't wait a SECOND to post this. So any mistakes with spelling or grammar are TOTALLY my fault!

Dear Diary,

How in the name of all that's pure did this happen to me? Fired? From a mediocre job, a job I really sort of hated anyway, by my boyfriend? Scratch that, my new ex, who wanted to hire in his not so new girlfriend to take my place.

I find myself pretty with long brown hair and brown eyes. I'm sort, less than five and a half feet tall. And damn it, I have an excellent body, or wardrobe, whichever. So you could imagine why being dumped would be a shocker to me. Especially by that guy!

It's Flushing, Queens, it's not like I am going to just walk next door and get a job. All I have going for me is my sense of style, panash, and good etiquette. This blows! Oy, I'm such a shlimazel.

I close my diary and throw it under my pillow, which is in my room, at my parents house. I'm 29, for god sakes. So, fine, I let that slip, to anyone else in the surrounding area I'm 24. Either way I don't need to be livin' in my parent's apartment anymore. (From now on, to follow me better, anything with an 'er, or r' at the end of it, just replace it with an 'a'. I'm a Jew living in New York, sorry if I'm not proper enough for you.)

Anyway, I'm sittin' here and there's nothing for me to do but kvetch. My boyfriend, Mike, broke up with me, trying to let me down easy and all that. I knew he'd been seeing that Lauren - the gentile - for a couple'a months now. Talk about pathetic. I'm telling you. . .if I had half a mind I'd go down there and demand my job back.

But who wants to work in a Bridal salon with your ex boyfriend just so you can wait on all the other girls you graduated with - some even younger - getting married well before you. Oh my god, I'm having palpitations! I'm going to die and old maid!

Instead of throwing myself back on the bed like the loser I am I grab my cell phone. If anyone can make me feel better it would be my best friend, Jessica. The phone rings a few times and her mother answers.

"Yeah?" She asks and I frown at the phone. There is no hope for my generation of Jewish women, we're destined to be our mothers!

"Yeah, is Jess around?" I inquire and I hear nothing but perhaps a rustling bag of Frito Lays and the soft swish of a moo-moo. And then. . .

"JESSICA! BELLA'S ON THE PHONE!" Right in my ear. I mean, really right now? There's some more movement, perhaps some nashing, and then the distinct sound of a phone changing hands.

"Bella?" Jessica asks, she's not too bright, but she's my best friend. Also single, which makes me like her more.

"Yeah, did you hear?" I ask, testing the waters. I'm assuming the minute Mike even had a THOUGHT about breaking up with me the whole tri-state area knew about it.

"Oh, Bella, are you gonna be alright? I heard about what Mike did, but don't worry. It's just cos she's pregnant." I froze. In place. Glaring down at the phone as if it had caused me irreparable harm and scoffed.

"Jessica. . .tell me you didn't just tell me that Mike Newton impregnated Lauren Mallory. Tell me this is not happening." I feel as if I may faint, or die, but I keep cool to find out my answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bella. I thought you knew. That's why she needs the job because Mike won't let her sit at home and eat bon bons and watch day time TV while she's pregnant with his kid." Jess had this amazing way of being stupider than a box of hair, but repeating conversations verbatim. She was like my own personal Rain man.

"I need a job, Jess. If my mother finds out I'm unemployed and living under her roof. . .Do you know the things she'll make me do?" I begged.

"God, yes. Probably Windex the plastic slip covers again, OK, look. I joined this awesome home sales thing. It is exactly like Avon, only not. It's a door to door sales thing for makeup. You can get a kit by tomorrow morning if you order it from me now. It's only $200 and gets you started. If you work the rich neighborhood you'll sell more. Although, those guys down by that bar I keep trying to get you to go to are a hot ticket as well. Must love their girlfriends."

"Jessica. . .they're GAY! They probably use it on themselves. Either way, sign me up. I need some extra cash before my ma finds out I don't have any." I finish talking to her and slump back down on my bed. It will only be a matter of time before I become the house maid or I'm married off to the guy down the hall simply because he's Jewish and single. Did I mention he's like ninety and rich? Why he lives in this crap hole I'll never know.

That night at dinner, nothing but the best Kosher here folks, my ma has me take a tray in to my dad. He barely leaves his room anymore, but that's his schtick, my parents are happily married thank you. When I return she's got that look in her eye, the one you get if you take the last chicken leg.

"What is it?" I whine. I'm a bit concerned she's gonna jab me with a fork or something.

"What's this I hear about Mike and the Bridal shop?" She asks, waving her fork around flicking pieces of meat everywhere.

"Nothing, so I lost my job. Jess has already gotten me a new one, don't worry." I sigh.

"Will this one bring you a man?" She eyes me.

"Did the last one?" I ask and that ends all conversation. Thank god the woman can't pass up desert!

A/N: Thanks for checking this out. The Twi characters taking over Nanny characters should make you giggle. At least it does for me when I look at my plot. These will probably be short chapters, and there will probably be several updates a week. I'm still working on two other fics so bear with me. Thanks! Please review and let me know what you think!