Bejewell on July 20th, 2015

Last week my silly little book was named the winner of the Discovery Prize in the Poetry category of the 2014 Book Awards from the Writers’ League of Texas.

This was a total surprise, for lots of reasons. Here are just a few:

  1. I’d completely forgotten that I’d entered this contest.
  2. I’d completely forgotten that this contest existed.
  3. After stumbling upon a couple of painfully bad reviews on Goodreads a few months ago, I’d been doing my best to forget that my book existed.
  4. These are serious awards for serious authors of serious books. The 2014 winners include Thunderstruck & Other Stories, a collection of short stories that won author Elizabeth McCracken the $20,000 Story Prize last month, and Getting Life, the memoir of wrongfully-convicted-then-fully-exonerated Michael Morton. My book contains poems titled Neil Patrick Harris Gets the Paddle and Hair in My Ass Crack. This math is weird.
  5. Just this month, I’ve made enough money off of it to buy myself a nice burrito supreme from Taco Bell – but maybe not the combo meal.

But really, all kidding aside, here’s the biggest reason:

I wrote and illustrated this book during a super crappy time in my life. After a couple of nasty episodes/rejections from people I’d cared about deeply, I’d been feeling pretty much awful about myself for a while. Luckily, after a few months of tearing myself apart I had the wherewithal to realize the only way I was ever going to feel any better was by shifting my focus completely – and writing a funny book sounded like a much more pleasant pastime than sitting around asking myself why I was such a pathetic waste of space. So the book idea was born.

Humor poetry wasn’t my first choice of genre. I already had a couple of other book drafts in the works, both contemporary fiction novels with dark comedy undertones, and I tried to move forward with each of them first, but just wasn’t feeling it. The more I tried to force it the more frustrated I got, which kind of defeated the whole purpose. In the meantime, I was writing some silly stuff for this blog (yes, I used to write stuff here! Crazy, right?!) and for some reason, short, silly, stupid poems were coming easy. So finally I decided to just go ahead and run with them. And now I’m glad I did.

One of these things is not like the others.

The announcement letter I received had this to say about the Discovery Prize:

“This is the second year we’ve named Discovery Prize Winners in each category. The directive to our judges was simple: Please nominate a book outside of the Finalists and Winner that you felt warranted a special mention for its fresh voice, inventive story, or some other element that made it stand out. While so many of the national book awards today tend to go to books being traditionally published by the major houses, we think it’s important to shine a light on the wonderful books that are being published by small presses or by authors themselves so we also asked our judges to keep that in mind for this Discovery Prize.”

So basically what they’re saying is, “You totally didn’t win, or even place… but hey, you know what? We still dig what you did there.”

Okay, so it’s not exactly a Pulitzer, but in my little world this is still a big deal. I love that this totally weird book, which I created and published – from the words to the illustrations to the cover to the marketing and everything else – 100% on my own and learning most of it from the ground up, can now be considered (at least on some small level) a success. That makes me feel pretty damned puffy, y’all.

And to have gone from believing I was a dumb, ugly, unlovable loser to winning an award for being “fresh” and “inventive”? Well, I’m not gonna lie – that’s just a lovely, refreshing, sweet-smelling breeze of all good.

Also – and not to go all Dalai Lama on you, or anything – but I do think it says something about the resilience of the human spirit and the endless possibilities of life and all kinds of other new-agey, karma-ish things. At the very least it proves that, with just a little bit of muscle and a whole lot of heart, it is possible to take a truly shitty situation and turn it into something sweet.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is this:

If you’re struggling with depression or deflated self-worth, or if you’re feeling beat down or hurt by someone you trusted and think you might never recover… please, please find it in yourself to take one step – just one – in a different direction. Whether it’s writing silly poems, painting pretty pictures, or stepping up to help someone else in need… just find a new, better direction than the one you’re currently facing, point yourself that way, and take that one first step. The next one will be easier, and so will the next, and so on and so forth… until, before you know it, you’ll have created something amazing, or made life for someone else a little bit easier, and you’ll feel good and proud and know in your heart that it was all worth it.

At least, that’s what worked for me.

Love,

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Bejewell on December 22nd, 2014

Today is December 22nd or, as I know it, The Day That Amazon Prime Officially Owns All Our Asses. If you’re a lazy, disorganized fuck like me and now find yourself a slave to the corporate 2-Day Shipping gods, today is your last day to serve your Lord and Master and get that shit here by Christmas Eve so nobody’s crying the next morning because Santa didn’t come.

One of the things Amazon offers while you browse the site for merchandise is the “Customers Also Viewed” feature. This section appears just below any item you view and can offer some great ideas for items that might be more appropriate for you than the one you’re currently browsing. Sometimes (but not THIS time) these items are even better or more interesting than the first thing, and I’ve also found that an extended “Also Viewed” click-thru marathon can provide some fascinating insights into human online-shopping behavior.

Of course, the results of such analysis do often create more questions than answers. Take, for example, the award-winning*, best-selling**, top-reviewed*** book Something Smells Like Pee: and Other Classy Observations. This incredibly touching, hilarious book (currently available on Amazon Prime) would make a wonderfully perfect gift for anyone on your holiday shopping list. However, one glance at the page’s “Also Viewed” list and you’ll see that customers interested in this amazing item are also checking out some seriously weird shit.

Let’s take a look:

Now, I think it’s clear that this book is the item for you. You probably realize it, too, and I bet you’re ready to buy copies for everyone you know, probably right this very second! But just out of curiosity… how about we take a quick peeksie at some of those other items viewed? if nothing else, we might learn some interesting things about the typical audience for this fantastic piece of literature.

So let’s explore.

Item #1: Mr. Gugu & Miss Go Men’s Creepy Unicorn Sweatshirt


There are no reviews yet for this gorgeous piece of work, but it should be noted that this is a menswear item and I’m sure some happy male purchasers will be chiming in any day now. At only $63.13, it’s a creepy, corny, unicorny steal!

Item #2: Realistic Full Bear (Brown) Adult Costume

I’d like to think that the discerning Amazon shoppers who considered spending $699.95 for this gem of a costume were looking for something to wear on Halloween… but given the other items that my fans have shown preference for… well, let’s face it. Their reasons were probably a lot more pervy.

Item #3: Cute Space Kitten Ladies Leggings

An essential component to any complete wardrobe, these kitten leggings will beautifully enhance any thigh. Verified purchaser (size: Large) Shawn says:

At first I was afraid that there would not be enough flying cats, or stars on this pair of pants. Fortunately, my fears were put to ease when my new pants arrived. My wife has grown fond of these pants and has started borrowing them for herself. I will most likely be looking to buy these in bulk, next time.

Item #4: Star Wars Han Solo Carbonite Beach Towel 30″ x 60″

This is the best beach towel ever created in the history of beach towels and if I do not get one for Christmas I will cry. However, it does lose one star because, as one reviewer pointed out, it is not actually MADE of carbonite.

Item # 5: Sharp Shirter Stripper Sloth Shower Curtain

Who wouldn’t want to dress up their bathroom with this unique addition? It even comes with 12 shower curtain hooks, for your convenience! 10 reviewers so far are giving it glowing recommendations, among them izbaby, who says:

I am so glad to have this hard working girl in the house. She picks the bills up slow but I know she is working to put herself through college and support her illegitimate offspring. Make it rain!

Feeling like this list is a little low on class? Well, skip to the next page and the items start to become a lot more respectable:

To start, the book I Love My Gay Badger Son tells a heartwarming tale of parents adopting and raising a first grader who also happens to be a boy weasel-like mammal who likes other boy weasel-like mammals. Adventures are had, love is shared, and they all learn many valuable life lessons along the way.

The Life-Sized Weeping Angel Cardboard Cutout will add a touch of tasteful whimsy to the home decor of any Dr. Who fan.

And the Tank-Shaped Cat Play House is sure to keep your war-hungry pussy entertained for hours on end.

See? Nothing but class.

Of course, any self-respecting fan of Jenny “The Bloggess” Lawson’s New York Times bestseller Let’s Pretend This Never Happened has already purchased their own copy of my book, so her inclusion on this list is only natural.  And the Willy Care Kit? Well, that’s just the gift that keeps on giving, y’all. Besides, whose family jewels don’t need a little extra polish every now and then? (Comes complete with grooming brush, shears, tiny ball-viewing mirror, and even a little medallion for when you feel like getting fancy.)

So overall, I’d say we’ve learned a few things from perusing this list, wouldn’t you? Let’s review:

(1) The people who buy Something Smells Like Pee are fucking weird fucking awesome

(B) If YOU want to be fucking awesome, you will buy a bunch of copies of Something Smells Like Pee immediately with two-day shipping and give it to everyone you know for Christmas, and

(iii) Amazon.com has a gift for literally anyone on the planet.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this little holiday lesson. Happy shopping, peeps — now go make some MERRY!

Love,

* Proud winner of the Best Book Written By Anyone in My House Award, given by me

** Currently ranked #1 in sales on the list of Books Written About Things that Smell Like Pee (children’s books, animal care books, parenting advice books and household maintenance books not included), calculations performed by me

*** By me

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Bejewell on September 22nd, 2014

I’ve eaten too much
Not a single bite more
can pass between these lips

(Unless, of course,
our server comes by
and refills the tortilla chips.)

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Bejewell on August 28th, 2014

If you’re currently growing out your facial hair and considering the Full Beard + No Mustache option — but you’re unsure if this is the right look for you — please ask yourself the following questions:

1.  Are you Amish?

2. Are you Abraham Lincoln?

3. Are you a leprechaun?

4. Are you Uncle Sam?

5. Are you a Klingon?

If you answered “yes” to one or more of the above questions, this look is totally appropriate for you.

If you answered “no” to all of the above, but have already grown your facial hair out to this unfortunate style — Heads up, dude. You look like a garden gnome.

*********

Bonus Round:

In which of the following situations is a “chin strap” appropriate?

Next Edition: Mutton chops.

Until then…

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AUSTIN, TX—Shoppers used to waiting in long lines at a local Target store’s three open checkout lanes were baffled this Saturday when a fourth register was opened. “We all just stood there, staring at each other,” said Nina Martin, a mom of three who was fifth in line at Lane 26 in the Parmer/I-35 North location when the light for Lane 27 suddenly flashed on. “There were at least three people behind me and we all wanted to rush over there, but none of us did because we just couldn’t believe it.”

Store manager Nicholas Strong made the unprecedented decision to open a fourth register when the three lanes already in use became overrun by long lines of shoppers. “Of course we see a lot of back-up on a daily basis – with only three registers open every day, that’s a given. But today, it felt more congested,” Strong explained. “The lines were so long that carts were blocking other shoppers from getting through, and when two separate customers pulled out their old-timey checkbooks to pay, I knew I had to do something.”

The decision to open an additional register wasn’t implemented right away; it took Strong and his subordinates some time to select one lane from the 42 available. “It was hard to narrow it down,” says one staff member. “We all debated for a while before we finally agreed on the best lane to open.” Ultimately, they settled on Lane 27 because of its convenient place in sequence after Lanes 24, 25, and 26, which were already open per the store’s usual procedure. “Lane 27 just made the most sense, you know?” says Strong. “I mean, why make people walk all the way down to Lane 1 or Lane 45 when there’s a perfectly good register right next to them?”

Once the extra register’s light came on, it took stunned shoppers several minutes to understand that the lane was actually open, and the light’s activation hadn’t been some kind of electronic glitch. “It was mass confusion at first,” said another customer, who wished to remain anonymous. “Some people thought it was a mistake, but I just thought it was some kind of practical joke. I was all, ‘FOUR lanes open at Target? Come on! Where are the reality show cameras?’”

Even some staff members were slightly bewildered by the new situation. Lana Boucher, an employee in the store’s meat department, said, “There was a buzz around the place, for sure. I didn’t even think those other registers worked if it wasn’t Christmastime.”

Despite their initial mistrust, shoppers did eventually grasp the concept of an additional available register; and a new line gradually formed with relatively minimal disruption to business. “There was a little shoving at first, sure, but overall the results were really good,” Strong reports. “Once they understood that the lane was really open and we weren’t messing with their heads, almost all of our customers responded in a very positive way. I’m glad we took a chance and tried it.”

Still, Strong knows he might face some consequences for his decision. “I don’t know what will happen once corporate gets wind of this,” he admits. “New and progressive ideas are always a little scary to some of the higher-ups.”

Calls to Target corporate headquarters requesting a statement were not returned.

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Bejewell on June 29th, 2014

The Big Bean is one of my favorite people in the world.


He’s a great husband. A wonderful father. A good friend. He works hard to provide for his family. He makes me laugh every day.

And last night, he almost killed me with his toenails.

For years I’ve joked about his poor foot grooming habits, complaining (mostly in jest) that the nails were too long and too strong, the jagged bits dangerously sharp (but probably convenient when climbing). I’ve called him names like Fred Flintstone and Tarzan. I’ve asked him to fetch me a bunch of bananas from the tallest tree in the forest. I’ve even laughingly speculated that his gnarled talons could be used as weapons, suggesting he try his luck in a cockfight.

It was all in fun. It was all just jokes.

But I’m not joking anymore, y’all.

I’m scared.

Last night I was sound asleep, lost in happy dreams when the man I love moved beside me, shifting for a more comfortable position. As he adjusted, one hirsute, briery foot grazed the back of my leg. I woke to the pain of a craggy, serrated shiv attempting to slice – yes, slice – across my Achilles’ tendon. I cried out in shocked terror.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he squawked, immediately realizing the enormity of the situation. He knew, with that one quick movement, the dangers we’d both just faced: mine, Death by Toenail; his, a lifetime of tragic guilt.

If he’d been just a *few* inches closer, pushed just a *little* bit harder, those hairy, malformed claws could have pierced *right* through my skin. An artery could have been punctured. I could have bled out before he reached 911. In my shaken mind, the story plays out…

The paramedics arrive to find a grisly scene: my legs, cold and paled by death, jut out from beneath the covers, drenched in blood; the Big Bean, head in hands at the edge of the bed, stares blankly at his wooly, leathered feet as he rocks himself and mindlessly mutters, “should’ve clipped ‘em, should’ve worn socks,” over and over and over.

There but for the grace of god go I.

***

A couple of weeks ago, our seven-year-old son had his first pedicure. It wasn’t a planned event – I was there to have my own toes done and he was with me, so it seemed like a good idea to let him join in. After all, while wonderful in all the other ways, he did inherit his dad’s ridiculous Captain Caveman feet – and as long as he’s still a snuggler, why take chances? He enjoyed it, too, flirting with the pedicurist and giggling when she reached the ticklish parts… and in the end he walked away with neat feet, softer than they’d been since his newborn baby days.

As far as I was concerned, this was a win-win. The Big Bean scoffed when I told him, but we both knew he didn’t have a gnarly, hairy foot to stand on.

The Big Bean isn’t scoffing anymore. In fact, he’ll soon be receiving a pedicure of his very own, alongside me and his son. Sometime this afternoon, he will find himself ass-planted in an oversized massage chair, voice trembling wildly as his back receives the rough knead-and-pound treatment. A slight woman speaking in a foreign tongue will do her best to tame the hideous beasts a-soak before her. It will not be her best day.

No, it won’t be easy for any of us – but we will all survive.

The pedicurist will walk away with sore arms, a healthy tip and a feeling of great accomplishment.

My husband will emerge a better man, no longer a slave to the grotesque, monstrous deformities keeping him off balance. Able to run free, free from the thorny mess that’s always lurked below, just waiting to trip him up.

And I will finally be able to sleep in peace, no longer cowed by the fear of a painful, bloody nighttime death.

With my own soft, closely trimmed, coral-painted toes, I am finally taking a stand.

It is time.

Wish us luck.

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Bejewell on May 7th, 2014

I don’t often do giveaways. In fact, I’ve only done one giveaway on this blog that I can remember, and that was like six years ago when I still had a Blackberry. I gave a $5 gift card to the first person who correctly identified the mysterious booger-like substance I found on my desk. (Correct answer for the curious: Lotion spooge.)

So clearly I’m not an expert in the giveaway department.

But when I met this amazing jewelry designer named Ryan Sadkin, I knew I had to do one. Because Ryan Sadkin, being not only an incredibly talented designer but also just an all-around super-hot and very nice chickster, gave me a gorgeous necklace from her collection, specifically for a giveaway.

And here it is:

Isn’t it just GORGEOUS? Of course it is. Don’t you just LOVE it? Of course you do. Wouldn’t it make the perfect Mother’s Day gift? Of course it would.

The only thing I can think of that *might* make a *better* Mother’s Day gift is a copy of my book, which you should already have, and if you don’t, shame on you and here is a link.

Anyway. Because this necklace is such a rad gift, I am totally giving one to myself this Mother’s Day. And I’m also giving one to YOU, if you win this little contest of mine.

All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on this post, telling me something about moms. It can be anything. Tell a funny story. Write a silly poem. Just say “I love my mom” or “I miss my mom” or “Moms are the bombs” or “Word to yo mutha” or “Know who would love that necklace? MY MOM,” a la Muscle Man.

 

Whatever. I don’t care. Just say something.

You can also earn extra entries by:

  1. Liking my book’s Facebook page and letting me know here that you did.
  2. Sharing my book’s Facebook page and letting me know here that you did.
  3. Sharing this post or the book on Twitter with the hashtag #beejisawesome.
  4. Sending me a video of you twerking.
  5. Not suing me when I post that video on every social media channel I can think of.

You have until Sunday at noon. So get moving, y’all. Good luck, and happy accessorizing!

P.S. Can’t forget the fine print:

No purchase necessary. Contest ends at 12:00 pm Sunday, May 11. Contest open to legal residents of the U.S. and Canada who are at least 18 years of age at the time of entry. Entries without contact information will be disqualified. Entries that do not follow contest specifications will be disqualified. Entries that include this link will be disqualified.

Winner will be selected by Random.org on May 11 and the winner will be notified on the same day. Winner must respond with his/her mailing address or shipping information with 48 hours of notification, or another winner will be randomly chosen. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED.

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Bejewell on April 24th, 2014

IF YOU… I WILL…
Hold the door open for me Thank you profusely
Do NOT hold the door open for me Thank you anyway, with dripping sarcasm
Tell me what to do Take great pleasure in doing exactly the opposite of whatever you just said
Tell me I can’t do something Prove you wrong
Cut me off in traffic Wait until I’m next to you again, then casually scratch my nose… with my middle finger
Ask me what time it is Answer with either, “MILLER TIME!” or “Time to make the donuts”
Become famous simply because you have big tits, a big ass, big hair or big money Never never never watch you on TV
Apologize with sincerity Accept, no questions asked
Break my heart Eventually get over it, but never really recover completely
Make my son cry FUCKING KILL YOU, then hate you forever (Adults)Imagine FUCKING KILLING YOU, shoot death daggers at you with my eyes, then hate you and your parents forever (Children)
Insult me Pretend it doesn’t bother me, go to the bathroom and cry, then avoid you like the plague
Ignore me Make a complete fool of myself as I try desperately to prove that I’m worthy of your attention
Are too nice to me Be suspicious
Intimidate me Talk reallyreallyfastaboutnothing and make a lot of unnecessarily loud, stupid jokes, then admonish myself for WEEKS for being such an ass
Compliment me Feel uncomfortable
Send me to voice mail Leave a very long, rambly message wherein I repeat myself at least seven times, then finally identify myself just as it cuts me o–
Make me laugh out loud Love you forever
Marry me Never leave you (at least, not for 17 years so far)
Have my back Be your loyal, true friend for the rest of my life
Hurt one of my friends Come at you like a fucking spidermonkey on crack
Play “She’s a Maniac” Dance like a maniac
Play “The Safety Dance” Do the Safety Dance
Play country music Complain
Play anything by Duran Duran Bitterly recall (again) the story of how I was unceremoniously tossed out of the Duran Duran fan club at my school in the 5th grade
Play anything by Aretha Franklin Sing along loudly, and badly
Unfriend me on Facebook Gasp, feel hurt, get mad, then block your ass forever even though you’ll never notice or care
Leave a comment on this post Like you
Give me a deadline Wait until the very last minute, then totally freak out and stay up all night to get it done, acting like a total asshole to anyone who dares to talk to me while I’m on deadline.
Drive past a cemetery with me in the car Inform you that people are just DYING to get in there, then laugh hysterically
Announce a great success Be genuinely happy for you, but inside feel sad and terribly insecure about my own future
Create something beautiful Fall in love with your talent and never forget how amazing you are
Cry Cry
Fart Laugh
Fall down Laugh, then ask if you’re okay
Ask me what I’m making for dinner Laugh, then hand you the folder with the take-out menus
Fire me from a job I hated anyway Watch the traffic report every morning from my couch, in my pajamas, then laugh and laugh and laugh because I know you’re in it, and thank the universe that I don’t have to work for such a shitbag anymore
Ask me what I’ll have to drink Feel pressured to decide then just say Mexican Martini even though I don’t really want that
Serve me three Mexican Martinis Tell slurry stories with WAY too much information, yell inappropriate things at other people in the bar, show my underwear and probably fall down
Slow dance with me Sway awkwardly. Step on your feet. Apologize profusely. Repeat.
Leave the TV on with The American President, Blind Side, Ocean’s 11 or anything with Cary Grant playing Stay and watch it all the way through the credits, even though I’ve already seen it a million times
Leave the TV on with any of the Twilight movies playing Watch the whole damned thing and hate myself EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF IT
Rush me Leave the house without anything I actually need
Tell me you need me Be there
Say anything during a home improvement project about caulk or the size of your hose THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID
Ask me if something is wet THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID
Talk about putting something in your mouth THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID
Discuss getting a piece of something THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID
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Bejewell on March 14th, 2014

Today is National Pi Day. Pi is a really really long number that has something to with circles. It’s important for a lot of big reasons that a lot of very smart people understand. On Pi Day they get super excited and talk about it a lot.

And that’s everything I know about Pi.

In celebration of this day that is very important for many reasons that I don’t understand and never will and don’t want to, I will now share with you an excerpt from my award-winning*, best-selling**, top-reviewed*** book Something Smells Like Pee (and Other Classy Observations) , which is currently on sale in both paperback and e-book formats on Amazon.com.

I hope you enjoy it.

Love,

* Proud winner of the Best Book Written By Anyone in My House Award, given by me

** Currently ranked #1 in sales on the list of Books Written About Things that Smell Like Pee (children’s books, animal care books, parenting advice books and household maintenance books not included), calculations performed by me

*** By me

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[Originally posted February, 2010. Re-sharing now because I'm feeling nostalgic.]

So my best friend from high school (also known as “Queen Bee“) just sent me a copy of a note that I apparently wrote her from my tenth grade algebra class.  It is both hilarious and horrifying at the same time.

I’ve blacked out some names to protect the innocent but you get the idea.

A few notes:

  1. I learned NOTHING in 10th grade Algebra II.
  2. I crushed on the Cute Boy on and off from the 7th through 10th grades, but he never wanted to be anything more than friends. I look back on photos from that time and I’m baffled.
  3. The Arch Nemesis was alternately a Best Friend (also on and off) all the way from elementary school, through junior high, high school and beyond. Our love/hate relationship eventually turned to just hate. I have no idea what she’s up to now and refuse to friend her on Facebook to find out.
  4. I have no idea who the boy is I didn’t want to like me, have no idea what “Gertrud’s” was, and don’t remember anything about that Thanksgiving.
  5. My Algebra II teacher was a very short, very quiet Hispanic man who always wore his belt buckle to the side, not in the middle. There was a rumor floating through school that this signified his dedication to Witchcraft and the Dark Arts.  Having snuck into the theater that summer to see The Witches of Eastwick, and having tried several spells from The Modern Witch’s Spellbook (none successful, but probably because I substituted many ingredients and had no idea what “parchment” was), I considered myself an expert on this matter and believed the rumor completely.
  6. I still have my copy of The Modern Witch’s Spellbook and I know what parchment is now, so don’t fuck with me.
  7. The scariest part of this note is the fact that some idiot gave a 10th grader a Visa card. I don’t remember this particular credit card but I am absolutely certain of three things:
    (a)  My mother had no idea I had it
    (b)  I used it to purchase things like L.A. Looks styling gel, Jellies, posters of Sting and the Cure (likely found at Spencer’s in the mall), lip gloss and random cassette tapes for my Walkman until Visa cut me off and I never paid the balance
    (c)  My mother will leave a comment here about this being the beginning of my long career of fiscal irresponsibility, or something to that effect
  8. The “Love You Always” special L-turns-into-A effect was painstakingly conceived and devised because I believed I needed my own “signature” to stand out from all the other note-writers.  For about a semester, every note I wrote was signed this way.
  9. When I showed this to the BFF, her response was this: “It’s odd how you have changed very little. When I saw the seating chart, I thought it was a building you wanted to throw that chick off of.” I’m really not sure what this says about me.
  10. Oh yeah. It says that I’M AWESOME. And have been since at least the tenth grade.

P.S. If you use Internet Explorer, my blog has decided that you’re an asshole. Not ME, my blog. So you can’t leave a comment. Should be fixed this weekend but until then you can either (1) use an Internet browser that DOESN”T suck gross, hairy balls or (B) close your eyes and wish really really really hard to leave a comment. (Helps if you rub something.) Thanks for playing.

P.P.S. Okay, my web guy fixed the Internet Explorer issue and it turns out that I did something to fuck up that post so it wasn’t my BLOG that decided you were an asshole, it was ME. On accident. Sorry. You’re not an asshole. You’re awesome. You can like my blog again, and leave a comment, and you don’t even have to rub anything.

P.P.P.S. Unless you want to. Rub something, I mean.

P.P.P.P.S. I would do both, if I were you.

P.P.P.P.P.S. What I’m trying to say is, according to me and my blog, you are no longer an asshole.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Okay, you MIGHT be an asshole. I don’t know. I don’t know you. You could be the biggest asshole on the planet, for all I know.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I’m pretty sure my web guy thinks I’M an asshole.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Having all of these P.S.es probably makes me even MORE of an asshole.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. It should be noted that if you’re my mom, you’re definitely NOT an asshole.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Hey, Mom, can I borrow some money?

I’ve Been Awesome Since At Least the Tenth Grade and Here’s the Proof

So my best friend from high school (also known as “Queen Bee”) just sent me a copy of a note that I apparently wrote her from my tenth grade algebra class. It is both hilarious and horrifying at the same time.

I’ve blacked out some names to protect the innocent but you get the idea.

Page 1

Page 2

Transcript:

[Queen Bee] –

Hey… Guess what class I’m in? Algebra II… “you-know-who” is in here. I showed him my new Visa card and he put his arm around me and said, so, [Beej], when are we going out?” He was just kidding, but I almost died! God, he was standing so close!! I will never wash my shoulder again. Argh – I like him so much!!!!

For lunch today let’s go to Gertrud’s – just the two of us, okay? If anybody else asks to go with, just say NO.

God, I hate [Arch Nemesis]. I wish her legs would fall off. She’s always in the way. For instance, she sits behind [Cute Boy] in this class ansd she’s always leaning forward to get close to him. BITCH!! [arrow pointing to convenient diagram of class seating]

And she’s always turned sideways in her desk so I can’t ever stare at him for very long because her beady little eyes are always looking at me. I HATE HER!

{Page 2}

Well, I haven’t seen [Queen Bee’s Crush] today yet – usually I’ve seen him by now. That’s odd. What did you say his date’s name was? [Unknown date’s name]? That is so funny that [Unknown boy I clearly do not have the hots for]’s going out with an ugly chick. I just don’t want him to like me!! Because I could never like him – I’m too hooked on you-know-who!!!

Hey, don’t forget to ask your mom about Thanksgiving à We’ll leave on Thursday morning and probably come back Saturday or Sunday night. Okey-dokey?

Well, I gotta go –

Write me back!

Love you

Always,

{“L” makes “A” in dramatic flourish}

YOUR BEST BUDDY!

[Beej]

{Side note} I [heart] YOU!

{Side note} I LOVE YOU KNOW WHO

{Side note} YOU LOVE WHAT’S-HIS-NAME….

{Side note, surrounded by arrows}

Oh

my

GOD!

he just

caught

me

staring

at him

I am

SO

E

M

B

A

R

R

A

S

S

E

D

!!!

*****

A few things should be noted here:

  1. I have absolutely no memory of most of this.
  2. I crushed on the Cute Boy on and off from the 7th through 10th grades, and the Arch Nemesis was alternately a Best Friend (also on and off) all the way through school and beyond.
  3. I have no idea who the boy is I didn’t want to like me and I don’t remember anything about that Thanksgiving.
  4. My Algebra II teacher was a very short, very quiet Hispanic man who always wore his belt buckle to the side, not in the middle. There was a rumor floating through school that this signified his dedication to Witchcraft and the Dark Arts. Having snuck into the theater that summer to see The Witches of Eastwick, and having tried several spells from The Modern Witch’s Spellbook (none successful, but probably because I substituted many ingredients and had no idea what “parchment” was), I considered myself an expert on this matter and believed the rumor completely.
  5. The scariest part of this note is the fact that some idiot gave a 10th grader a Visa card. I don’t remember this particular credit card but I am absolutely certain of two things:
    1. My mother had no idea I had it
    2. I used it to purchase things like L.A. Looks styling gel, Jellies, posters of Wham! and Adam Ant (likely found at Spencer’s in the mall), Bonnie Bell lip gloss and random cassette tapes until Visa cut me off and I never paid the balance
  6. When I showed this to the BFF, her response was this: “It’s odd how you have changed very little. When I saw the seating chart, I thought it was a building you wanted to throw that chick off of.” I’m really not sure what this says about me.
  7. Oh yeah. It says that I’M AWESOME. And have been since at least the 10th grade.

Beej

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