You Like Me. You Really Like Me.

Oh my gosh, you guys. Four of you nominated me for this award! Which makes me feel very, very special and pretty and popular (something I did NOT feel at 13)... as well as very, very undeserving considering most of you blog like 8,000% more than I do.

Because I feel so guilty, I will try to follow the rules this time, even though it makes me feel kind of like I'm sending a warm-and-fuzzy blog version of a chain letter. These are the rules:

1) Thank the person who nominated me for this award.

2) Copy the award & place it on my blog.

3) Link to the person who nominated me for this award.

4) Tell us 7 interesting things about yourself.

5) Nominate 7 bloggers.

6) Post links to the 7 blogs I nominate.

So big thank yous to the lovely bloggers below who presented me with the butterflies-caught-in-storm-of-curlicues goodness. Are you already reading their blogs? You should be:

Are You There Youth? It's Me, Nikki: Nikki recaps the best selection of raised-in-the-'80s classics and little-known gems AND she freely call characters out on their cuntery. Dare I say it's a combination that goes together like high tops and slouch socks?

Worst of the Worst Fanfiction: What's better than making fun of yourself and/or Francine Pascal's legion of ghostwriters? Making fun of pervy creative spellers who can't be assed to come up with their own characters!

Living in the '80s and '90s: I just discovered this blog and already have a crush on its snarktastic recaps of the inanity that is Bayside High, among other awesomeness. YES!

Fear Street: I have never read an R.L. Stine book, but I freakishly love this blog and its author's obsession with Stine's mole. (Really, can you blame her?)

And here are seven things about my 30-something self that my 13-year-old self would be shocked to learn—I mean, other than the obvious fact that I am using a COMPUTER to let strangers, and people I know, and BOYS read my diary:

I am not married with a truckload of babies. Thirteen-year-old me thought I'd have at least three rugrats by now, preferably fathered by Joe McIntyre; 30-something me thinks Joey Joe is a bit of a douche. To be fair, I'd still pick him as a baby daddy over some of my other 13-year-old crushes (two words: Vanilla Ice).

I actually like vegetables! When I was 13, the closest I got to a vegetable was a Claussen's dill pickle. I am not exaggerating.

I ride a bike nearly everywhere. (Actually, this may have been predicted once in a round of MASH.) At 13, I loathed physical activity so much that I managed to talk my pediatrician into write me a note excusing me from Gym for the year. True, I was having a lot of asthma trouble at the time, but really, how much running do you do in basketball elimination? Answer: next to none. Instead, my bum-kneed friends and I got to be office aides, delivering notes and forgotten lunches to classrooms all over the building. Best! Gym class! Ever!

I don't have cable. Thirteen-year-old me was committed to a rigorous weekly schedule of television viewing, whereas 30-something me watches less TV than a Scandinavian. (Honestly, 23-year-old me would probably be astonished by this as well. Sometimes I do miss me a little television for women.) However! My brain has retained a staggering amount of trivia from its years in front of the boob tube, and I dream of someday starting a band that plays nothing but '80s sitcom theme songs. No, seriously.

I kinda sorta love karaoke. Despite my yearly plan to form a band, 13-year-old me was actually terrified of singing solo. (Think of me as the Jon Knight of Girls Will Be Girls.) In 8th grade chorus, when our teacher was sussing out the altos and sopranos, I flat-out refused to sing by myself in front of the class. Now? I karaoke only once or twice a year, but I spend countless hours analyzing what makes a killer karaoke tune. Current front-runner for World's Best Karaoke Song (as suggested by my friend Alyssa) is Heart's "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You," a ballad about a woman who bones a hitchhiker when her impotent husband can't give her a baby, then leaves said hitchhiker a mysterious letter about gardening. Needless to say, THE CROWD LOVED IT! Note: "Kiss Me Deadly" and "Hot Blooded" also go over well. You're welcome!

13-year-old me LOVED this song! It was a Pizza Hut jukebox favorite.

I moved to Oregon without dying of dysentery OR a snake bite! When I was 13, all I knew about Portland was that the Quimbys lived there. And that a lot of your oxen might die before you reached Klickitat Street.

I still haven't completed book of my own. But since starting this blog, I've had an idea for one! With, like, an actual plot! And if I can ever figure out what the frig's up with my main character, maybe I'll actually write it!

Now for some shout-outs (forwarding of curlicue-butterfly magic is optional; I think half of you have already received this award):

Not That Kind of Girl: TKOG is on a quest to do 250 uncharacteristic things before the end of August 2010. If you like self-improvement that involves blow job classes, dancing like no one's watching on the JumboTron, and overuse of the word "dude" (which, dude! I totally do!), you should be reading this.

Steam Me Up, Kid: This blog is just no-holds-barred hilarity. Posts include instructions on how to improve your wonk-eye, first-base threesomes, and being the boss of your bodily functions. I kind of want to move to L.A. so I can try to become friends with Becky. Is that weird?

Dibbly Fresh: Snappy, satirical pop culture commentary AND Ann M. Martin bashing? What more can you ask for? Plus, Sadako makes me feel smart, which is not something I often feel when reading about The Baby-sitters Club.

The Diary Project: I love knowing that I was not alone in my all-consuming boy obsession, unwavering love for Beaches, and quest for permed hair—which it turns out I didn't need, as my hair was naturally frizztastic (see photo; that mess is ALL REAL, but it often fooled my hairdressers at Ye Olde Supercuts).

The Dairi Burger: I know you all already read The Dairi Burger; that's probably how you found this blog in the first place. But really, ihatewheat deserves a whole room full of awards for fearlessly reading the dreck that the SVH ghostwriters pass off as literature. ihatewheat, I salute you!

NEXT TIME: I promise to welcome you to Tademy Academy. After that, we'll finally start middle school!