tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23978150979261281762011-08-16T06:19:07.492-07:00Read along as I revisit my days as a preteen authoress.Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.comBlogger851100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-43266391789409582752010-08-19T12:27:00.000-07:002010-08-19T12:28:05.324-07:00

Hello? Hello? Are any of you still here? I think I may be jeopardizing my standing in the Worst Blogger Ever contest by posting, but screw it! I've missed you all terribly! Sorry for dropping off the face of the Internet the last couple of months. But I'm back (for now; let's not get too crazy with the promises), and—even more exciting—I've brought pencils with me.But these aren't just any

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-87487780558129376922010-05-12T11:06:00.000-07:002010-08-19T12:35:34.359-07:00

As an elementary schooler, I loved to draw. Girls. I loved to draw girls. My magic markers and I had a pretty rigid "no boys allowed" policy. There were several reasons for this:Boys. Grody. (Okay, okay, so hating boys was just a front. Really I loooooooved the boys, but sometimes a girl has to save face in front of her USA co-Crushers.)Because I was so accustomed to drawing girls, on the rare

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-26151812481012786932010-04-26T23:21:00.000-07:002010-05-12T11:45:05.439-07:00

You know how when you were a kid, having a favorite animal was a Really Big Deal? And every time you'd be at a carnival or a gift shop or Carlton Cards at the mall, you'd pester your mom into letting you buy a miniature version of that animal? And you'd keep the entire collection on your bedroom wall in a wooden curio shelf shaped like a house? Well, for me that animal was the rabbit.For full

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-950301244567114912010-04-08T22:02:00.000-07:002010-04-26T23:27:51.862-07:00

Do we have to talk about how long I've been gone? I've been gone a long time. A long, looooong time. The past two months were unexpectedly busy, but now it looks like I will—just as unexpectedly—have a lot more time on my hands. This is probably bad news for my bank account, but hopefully good news for the blog. So... yay?This installment of Every Picture Tells a Story was probably drawn during

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-6344090191274205572010-02-05T00:06:00.000-08:002010-04-13T17:48:31.217-07:00

This picture tells a story beloved by schlocky film execs everywhere: mousy introvert gets contact lenses, a miniskirt, and instant popularity! It's titled (what, you guys didn't title your fourth grade drawings?) PERSONALITY PEOPLE. No, really.[You can click to enlarge, but please rest assured that we are going to cover this in excruciating detail.]Personality plus!Our heroine/fashion victim/

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-44806651385454948532010-01-27T11:03:00.000-08:002010-02-05T00:20:42.068-08:00

The following was definitely some sort of class assignment to, I don't know, come up with an ad? Because I had Don Draper for a teacher? Not too sure. What I do remember is thinking that if this product existed, it would be the COOLEST. THING. EVER. Fast-forward 20-some years, and... well, see for yourself.What exactly is a Watch-a-call, you ask? And is Pepsi going to sue me for trademark

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-70534805537392063822010-01-18T22:41:00.000-08:002010-01-27T11:28:39.424-08:00

LAST TIME: Our narrator, Frankie "Franks and Beans" Chapman (I am so waiting for someone to address her as "Franks and Beans") and her pals spent upwards of five hours picking out clothing for the first day of 7th grade, only to end up in Aeropostale jeans and Keds. WTF? Meanwhile, they were asked to pledge Tademy Academy's most exclusive "social society"—and unabashed drill team mafia—the Deltas

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-48222794841748056192010-01-13T21:25:00.000-08:002010-01-18T22:50:19.316-08:00

Guest author Kylie wrote this doozy when she was in fourth grade, just a few short years ago. No, really, you guys. Kylie just turned 14. Fourteen! When I was 14, the Internet didn't even EXIST.* But if it had, I certainly wouldn't have invited some 32-year-old woman to make fun of me on it. So, hats off to you, Kylie! And as usual, when I say "hats," I mean Claudia Kishi–style fedoras with, like

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-22947544780438588912009-12-30T23:02:00.000-08:002010-01-13T22:07:31.273-08:00

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

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-13148277953435949532009-12-06T23:22:00.000-08:002010-01-13T22:08:49.196-08:00

Because we were the epitome of cool, my sister and I had lots—and I mean LOTS—of pen pals in our teen and tweenage years. Writing letters was fun, but sometimes we liked to take it to the next level by creating insightful surveys on our word processor (sample query: "Did Paula Abdul get a boob job or is it trick photography?"). We would distribute lists of these pressing questions to our pen pals

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-31400058928613096822009-11-23T20:22:00.000-08:002009-12-06T23:27:30.868-08:00

When last we left the saga, Cleveland's lake effect snow had failed to providentially strand my fourth grade crush, Sig, at my house mid-blizzard. (Thanks for nothing, Lake Erie.) I was 99% sure that Sig was into me, because sometimes he would, like, look at me in class. The problem: He also tended to gaze at my friend Jessica. Another problem: Jessica liked him too. And also: Jessica was, oh,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-32471816872172585002009-11-11T22:17:00.000-08:002009-11-24T09:03:15.402-08:00

You guys? Why do I have this blog format where I write novella chapter book–length entries? It's killing me. Not to get all Woe Is Me on you here, but the main reason for my spotty blog performance is that I have chronic forearm pain. (Starting a blog? Maaaaybe not the most brilliant idea I've ever had.) And I have two jobs! I don't want you guys to think I'm just lazy. Okay, SOMETIMES I'm lazy,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-42920598330672253382009-10-15T23:04:00.000-07:002009-11-11T22:25:04.785-08:00

According to my fifth grade journal, my three favorite books that year were Just As Long As We're Together, The Search for Grissi, and Sister of the Quints. You see, I was into realistic fiction. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed a good yarn about dolls reenacting murders or a ghost who turned roses to mush while helping to uncover some hidden savings bonds as much as the next gal, but horror?

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-38957769118116183102009-10-08T22:49:00.000-07:002009-10-15T23:13:18.777-07:00

Hi. Remember me? Like a month ago I promised you babysitters being stalked by soul-sucking demons from hell? Well, the bad news is that my guest author (commenter extraordinaire Cory) couldn't wait and started posting this story on his own blog. (Really, I have no one to blame but myself.) The good news? We decided to post it here anyway! It's Halloween, people! And everyone loves a good

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-55481680641834301082009-09-07T23:19:00.000-07:002009-10-08T22:52:52.384-07:00

As you may have deduced from a glance at my blogroll, I was a huge Baby-sitters Club fan back in fifth grade. And since babysitting was obviously synonymous with Exciting Plotlines (we all know it's only a short leap from running a playgroup to discovering secret passages, flirting with sexxy lifeguards, and going on free cruises to Disney World), I thought I'd try my hand at a babysitting novel

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-56897313546463999392009-08-31T22:17:00.000-07:002009-09-07T23:29:32.432-07:00

I haven't had time to snark all of Lauren Lowsky, 100% babysitter, so I'm sneaking in a quickie first. This short story was an entry in my fifth grade school journal, and I thought it was totally eeeeeeerie and could definitely get me a gig writing for The Preteen Twilight Zone. (And yes, by that I mean Are You Afraid of the Dark? Or was that more like Tales from the Preteen Crypt? Discuss.)3/14/

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-3100924205287025492009-08-18T22:14:00.000-07:002009-08-31T22:17:38.570-07:00

My fifth grade Language Arts teacher decided to liven up book reporting... by making us write our reports on scoops of paper ice cream. She made a bulletin board featuring construction-paper ice cream cones inscribed with every student's name. Each time we read a book, we'd write a short description on a scoop of ice cream and staple it atop our cone.Nothing motivates children to read like paper

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-30372191406846564952009-08-05T22:28:00.000-07:002009-08-19T10:06:23.793-07:00

In fifth grade, my friends and I had many activities we enjoyed doing together: rating the boys in our class on various predetermined qualities; singing along to Paula Abdul; eating Cool Ranch Doritos; choreographing elaborate dance routines to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack; and, of course, creating fictional characters who would then engage in epistolary feuds. The former is what we'll be

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-23128158543662343852009-07-29T23:01:00.000-07:002009-08-05T22:47:59.626-07:00

Last time you read my entry into the fifth grade Advanced Reading Class's playwriting competition. This time? You get to read one of the winners! Because not only did I save my own abominably written plays, I also saved my classmate's. I'm a minimalist's worst nightmare. Melisa's Problem was penned by one of my fellow advanced readers—who will remain anonymous here, as I haven't seen her since

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-54454131368278397062009-07-14T22:56:00.000-07:002009-07-29T23:36:33.478-07:00

Our elementary school's Gifted & Talented program had a red-headed stepchild called Mrs. Donnelly's Advanced Reading Class. Actually, in Mrs. Donnelly's case, it was more of a dyed-blond-and-set-at-the-beauty-parlor-every-week stepchild, and it reeked of perfume. Oh man, did it ever reek of perfume. This was especially unfortunate because the Advanced Reading Class was held in a windowless room

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-45222300558789592242009-06-29T11:15:00.000-07:002009-10-22T19:33:27.526-07:00

In fifth grade, we had a class assignment to write our autobiography. This should have been a piece of cake for me. I mean, I wrote at home all the time... FOR FUN. But? Those were stories about punk rock Valley girls! Runaway cult members! Girls who dressed up like hookers for Halloween and wired the insides of trees in their spare time! In other words, people with much more interesting lives

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-27900190622546235012009-05-19T20:16:00.000-07:002009-06-30T09:47:13.260-07:00

You guys? I know. I am the mayor of Slackerville. The CEO of Slack, LLC. The... um... head of something else that involves slacking. But I'm back! Again! And I've brought with me Shorlock Homes the Cowgirl and Jenany and Jonhhy, the Children of Terrible Spellers. Do you forgive me? Maybe a little?Guest author Michelle wrote these all-too-brief goodies when she was in second grade (circa 1998–1999

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-57240908532869344072009-04-22T12:39:00.000-07:002009-05-19T20:22:45.803-07:00

This one was inspired by two great tastes that probably DON'T taste great together: the no-nonsense prose style of Paula Danziger... aaaaand kidnapping. For those of you who don't remember, kidnapping was HUGE in the '80s! It was like the Snuggie of 20 years ago. (Speaking of Snuggies, you could probably use one to lure unsuspecting children into your windowless van. "Want to try on my blanky? It

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-22618230985350359242009-04-07T21:54:00.000-07:002009-04-22T12:49:06.231-07:00

I'M BACK! I didn't mean to be gone so long, but extracurricular activities topped with an arm pain flare-up kind of effed me up for a while. You don't even want to KNOW how many unread items I have in Google Reader. But enough of the excuses! Let's hit the proverbial road and learn more about the 5th grade residents of Friendship, NY.If Friendship were a TV show, this one might qualify as a Very

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-83338168629287285272009-03-14T17:43:00.000-07:002009-04-07T22:03:14.403-07:00

This week's Book That Never Was™ takes us back to the rural outskirts of Friendship, NY, where Samantha Rhodes and her two younger siblings have moved in with their Gram and Gramps... for reasons that are never quite explained. The story unfolds (or, more accurately, doesn't unfold) through a series of letters exchanged between Sam and Anita, her BFF back home—a series of letters that quickly

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-87030960686410308742009-03-06T10:53:00.000-08:002009-03-14T17:51:41.507-07:00

The contents of the Gilford Girls folder (which is actually labeled Don't Be Yourself, though it contains not a word of that story) proves once and for all that I spent far more time drawing my characters—and coming up with their favorite colors!—than I ever did coming up with a plot. Any sort of plot. At all.The story that's actually in the folder, Living in a Princess's Land....When You're Not

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-75176818567474160262009-02-27T12:43:00.000-08:002009-10-22T19:34:53.315-07:00

In fifth grade, the highlights of my social life were birthday parties and sleepovers, the ultimate event, of course, being a birthday party sleepover. These were chances for us to:Watch movies with dirty words in them—and maybe even boobs! Or butts! Ewwww!See how much crap we could eat without becoming mortally ill.Engage in spaztastic behavior that made little to no sense. (Likely a side effect

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-59598618253341236372009-02-23T21:21:00.000-08:002009-02-27T12:50:56.097-08:00

The following tragic—or "tradgic," as the case may be—tales were recorded in my school journal. What do we think my fifth grade teacher's reaction was? Copious eye-rolling? Or laughing until she peed her pants, then reading the journal aloud to every member of her immediate family?The first tale of woe is supposed to be written in an objective journalistic style. Please note: supposed to

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-54590667446660011362009-02-18T23:05:00.000-08:002009-02-23T21:29:13.796-08:00

Remember how I had a bit of an obsession with child sleuths? Well, guest author Heraa was on the opposite end of the spectrum. While I wanted to solve crimes, she dreamed of being the one committing them. Heraa wrote the following story—about a prepubescent burglar with shoddy hair accessories—in 2003, when she was in third grade. That's right, 2003! I'll let you do the math. It's never too soon

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-47535860538701676802009-02-12T17:46:00.000-08:002009-02-18T23:13:33.659-08:00

This post answers the burning question What was Sada doing on Valentine's Day weekend 20 years ago? The following school journal entries chronicle a SUPER ROMANTIC TIME involving a sweater dress from T.J. Maxx, semi-inappropriate song dedications to my cousins, and quite a bit of vomit. Oh, and what may or may not have been my grandparents' 40th wedding anniversary.2/13/89!SURPRISE!WEEK END Well,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-32437834764058611602009-02-10T15:31:00.000-08:002009-02-12T17:52:35.633-08:00

LAST TIME: Ashley the Diary had listen to Jenny (or Jen) go on and on about her really exciting fifth grade life. Jenny's parents' divorce at long last became final, and Jenny's dad was all, "YESSSSSS! Now I can ditch these bratty kids and gorge myself on McDonald's... in Maine!" Gretchen and Todd kissed, and I threw up in my mouth a little. Jen scribbled some passive-aggressive poetry on

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-64424475878100805342009-02-04T12:07:00.000-08:002009-02-10T15:48:29.781-08:00

LAST TIME: Jenny (or Jen) continued to pour her heart out to her diary, Ashley, about her various fifth grade traumas: Sarah almost DIED of pneumonia, but only missed about two weeks of school. Abby lost a worrisome amount of weight, which was GREAT NEWS! That britch Gretchen broke her leg due to her extreme idiocy—and STILL managed to seduce Todd Swartz and his hair! Meanwhile, Jen's grandpa had

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-11644932124545373282009-01-28T22:07:00.000-08:002009-02-04T12:18:42.175-08:00

LAST TIME: Jenny-or-Jen was so, so excited about her new diary ("Ashley") because she wanted to be just like Anne Frank! Minus that whole Holocaust thing. Jenny-or-Jen's parents were about to finalize their divorce, but our heroine was much more upset about having to walk her "pesty" little sister home from school because OHMYGOD someone might SEE! Maybe even Todd Swartz and his cool haircut! The

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-49040278909143692232009-01-20T21:31:00.000-08:002009-01-28T22:22:44.060-08:00

I declared myself as a "writer" early on in my childhood. This meant I was doomed to receive, at a minimum, five diaries and/or blank books a year as gifts. I mean, I liked writing in a diary and all, but COME ON! I was no Anaïs Nin, people. For one thing, I was 11! There was no way on God's green earth that the trivial details of my life could fill five diaries a year. But the trivial details of

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-55775999077304664052009-01-16T11:07:00.000-08:002010-08-10T13:29:09.221-07:00

LAST TIME: One year after the murders of Melony and Charlotte (Charlette?), Izzy's family had shipped off to Mississippi and Andy's mom—her faith in men blissfully restored—was on the verge of remarriage. No one suspected that Andy and Izzy were the murderesses... no one, that is, except Andy's future stepsister, Rosin Lee, and her loser friend Violet Zwick. Rosin Lee lived up to her "dumb nam"

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-3455110905750852812009-01-11T18:51:00.000-08:002009-01-16T11:17:36.979-08:00

Some of you (well, okay, maybe just one of you) e-mailed me after the last post to express a bit of concern over the state of guest author Deathycat's mental health. Just because she wrote about offing some siblings in fifth grade! Yeesh! Did you not read how conceited those girls were?! Anyway, as such, I would like to take a moment to officially defend young Deathycat's right to dramatize all

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-18442199566901222342009-01-07T21:05:00.000-08:002009-01-11T18:59:07.609-08:00

Our first guest author of the new year is Deathycat, who brings us the following three-part tale of sibling rivalry gone horribly, murderously wrong. It makes the Wakefield twins seem downright quaint.Deathycat says: I present to you Dear Sister, a play I co-wrote with my best friend, Amanda. We wrote it the summer after fifth grade in 1995 when I was 10. Now, unfortunately, this is not the

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-32022980410388166952008-12-30T21:37:00.000-08:002009-10-22T19:40:57.273-07:00

These are my New Year's resolutions from fifth grade. You may be unsurprised to learn that I no longer make New Year's resolutions. 1/11/89New Year's Resolutions:#1: To move into the Scarborough house.#2: To spend more time with Baby, my guinea pig.#3: To tame Bun-bun, my rabbit.#4: To get a real baby-sitting job.#5: To pass my ice-skating class.#6: To finish my 3 stories I started.#7: To put on

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-44510374585611183262008-12-28T20:04:00.000-08:002008-12-30T21:50:20.613-08:00

First, the bad news: I didn't make it to Cleveland after all thanks to Snowzilla's extended beat-down on Portland. My luggage, on the other hand, moseyed there and back—too bad it couldn't smuggle me a falafel sandwich from Tommy's. So not only did I miss out on Christmas with my parents (you guys, my holiday was so makeshift that I decorated a small houseplant with ornaments, no joke), but I

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-38842799026563353412008-12-17T23:02:00.000-08:002008-12-28T20:17:40.705-08:00

I'm a half-Jew, and although my family never went in for a combo holiday like the Cohens did—or like my friend Jamie, whose family celebrated Hanumas—December did mean double the holiday action, if not double the gifts. First we would celebrate Hanukkah with my mom's family. My grandma would throw a giant party and invite all of my mom's cousins and their kids, and we'd have a gift exchange akin

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-41560811829648886682008-12-15T08:58:00.000-08:002008-12-15T09:00:14.174-08:00

Last night I dreamed about this blog.I'm serious.Specifically, I dreamed that I found extra pages in the Syra Cuse story (but only a couple of extra pages, because I'm realistic even when I'm unconscious) and a book about a bunch of gymnastics whizzes who also happened to be quintuplets. There were even illustrations. (I think it goes without saying, but YES, they were awesome.)Should I be

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-1347152974133144562008-12-10T21:07:00.000-08:002008-12-17T23:22:31.824-08:00

Once I realized I was writing a series, I knew I had to have a book that would prepare my readers for all of the boy craziness, girl bitchiness, and natural disasters that lay ahead. (All right, all right, so I never made it that far with the disasters. I still feel pretty confident that Friendship lies on a major fault line.)I needed a Kristy's Great Idea, but by this time I had read

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-29479059285805035312008-12-05T10:57:00.000-08:002008-12-10T21:26:32.674-08:00

I think the Cuses were the first residents of Friendship, NY. I don't mean back in colonial times or anything (in fact, as you'll read, they've only recently moved to town), just that I believe Syra and her family were the first characters that I relegated to Friendship-dom. This "book" appears to have been written before the series was even a twinkle in my eye. Well, okay, it might have been a

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-25954983300613472422008-12-02T19:31:00.000-08:002008-12-05T11:09:51.058-08:00

Previously we met Adrianne Tyler, best known for her übershiny eyes and for masterminding acts of pseudo-vandalism.(Hey, are those rhinestone-studded moccasins on her feet? I vote yea.)But she looks surprisingly nondevious, don't you think? What would make a mild-mannered fifth grade girl act out in such a slimy-food-smearing and school-hating way? If you guessed "problems at home," well, pat

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-28360313211202375202008-11-25T22:06:00.000-08:002008-12-02T19:42:33.635-08:00

LAST TIME: Kimberly and Adrianne started the first day of the fifth grade with the world's most pointless friendship pact; I introduced a thousand and one extraneous characters; and the girls went to math class. Really. That's all that happened.Chapter Two: I hate schoolLunch was great. Oh, math was OK. Mr. Matthews was so nervous. He kept glancing at the clock and saying "um" and "ah" too much.

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-78249082766771052312008-11-18T21:34:00.000-08:002008-11-25T22:26:16.760-08:00

After looking over a few of the stories in the Friendship series, I'm realizing that more often than not I applied the "Friendship" label after the fact. Don't get me wrong: The 100 (and then some) characters are here in all their Anglican-named glory. But I think my ingenious idea to name the school—and the town—Friendship happened kind of late in the game. Many of the books (this one, for

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-59543564486426947612008-11-13T23:54:00.000-08:002008-11-18T21:45:55.764-08:00

YA series were clearly where it was at, so I decided to start my own. But unlike, say, every other series, I didn't limit the action to one core group of friends. Why confine myself to writing about only five or so characters when I could write about a hundred? I mean that literally: My series was about the 100 fifth grade students enrolled at Friendship Elementary School, located in the

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-74924641357074114822008-11-09T20:49:00.000-08:002008-11-14T00:04:49.179-08:00

The sequel to Gossip Central really functions much more like a television spin-off: One of the club members moves away, and we get to follow along and observe her new, way crappier life. Unfortunately, that means no Barbara Nelson. I know! I can't apologize enough! In a perfect world, Barbara would get the spin-off. All of our days would be spent watching her wreak havoc at the mall by walking

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-46065354119747277622008-11-03T22:20:00.000-08:002008-11-09T20:50:19.980-08:00

Fifth grade was the year I got really into reading YA series. I had started a few in fourth grade, and by fifth grade I was completely hooked. The queen of them all, of course, was The Baby-sitters Club—but its throne was actually a director's chair and it wore a visor instead of a crown. Ann M. Martin really tried to offer a little something for everyone: fashionistas, artists, tomboys,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-62345598477328580072008-10-28T08:14:00.000-07:002008-11-04T09:14:04.460-08:00

Okay, so I apologize in advance for the narcissism, but I was psyched to unexpectedly come across these photos over the weekend. I didn't realize I had them here! Plus, I thought you might be interested to see the face behind the chapter books. I mean, before that face had braces and was topped with triangle hair.First there are a few pictures of me dorking out with a book.That's me circa first

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-53119346619311043972008-10-22T21:39:00.000-07:002010-04-08T18:18:42.329-07:00

By fourth grade I was pretty serious about my burgeoning career as a YA author—but that didn't stop me from moonlighting as a singer/songwriter (emphasis on the "songwriter," because I wasn't all that great at the actual singing part). What I was great at, however, was keeping all of my rock 'n' roll paraphernalia in one spot—namely, this 1985 "Jukebox Junkie" folder, which features an onslaught

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-74278268236896134312008-10-18T09:34:00.000-07:002008-10-22T21:51:49.978-07:00

If you've been reading this blog, you've probably realized that I have an almost creepily good memory. And as far back as that memory goes, I have always liked (or, ahem, been utterly obsessed with) boys. For reals: My most vivid preschool memories involve a boy who used to pull up his shirt and chase the girls around bare-chested. Once he kissed me on a field trip to the fire station. Yeah, we

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-44534829030801608752008-10-08T20:53:00.000-07:002008-10-18T09:48:53.340-07:00

Well, we're back in the ol' books-that-never-were vault, and this one strays a bit from my normal formula. Typed on a sheet of 6" x 9" paper, it simply reads:P*R*E*T*E*E*NAll right, everyone writes books about teenagers and all of their problems. Well, teens aren't the only ones with problems. This book is about preteens, who have more problems than they can handle. Preteens are the ages of 10,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-43804934784254047122008-10-06T20:57:00.000-07:002008-10-20T22:38:53.888-07:00

This entry's guest author also happens to be my be fri, Jamie. Growing up, we lived in the same city but went to different elementary schools. But in third grade, the fates aligned and we were assigned as inter-school pen pals. And seriously, it was fate, because here's just a short list of the many things we had in common:BOYS!Chinese food!The same middle name!A fascination with—but weak grasp

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-9976729230470853392008-09-28T22:21:00.000-07:002008-10-06T21:25:04.213-07:00

Hello, and welcome back to the Land of Lost Books! This next tale involves one of my favorite childhood plot devices: the ginormous family. And if you don't think a ginormous family is a plot unto itself, you clearly have not watched enough Just the Ten of Us. (Note: For the purposes of bloggery, I will classify a ginormous family as one that contains six or more children and any number of

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-7496014939330732122008-09-25T23:08:00.000-07:002008-09-29T09:08:21.401-07:00

So if you've ever perused my lengthy list of blog tags, you may nave noticed the label "books that never were." Perhaps you're thinking, "Uh, Sada, isn't that a tad misleading? Technically, aren't these ALL books that never were?" To which I would have to reply, "Well, yes, you've got me there." The tag, however, refers to books that really, really, REALLY never got off the ground. I may have

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-70098677605600410902008-09-23T21:26:00.000-07:002008-09-29T09:10:18.226-07:00

After reading books like Peggy Parish's Clues in the Woods, I too wanted to become a child sleuth. So in third grade, I started up my own (perhaps slightly unwelcome) detective business. The following are some case notes from my Detective Notebook. The same notebook was used to track the testicular destruction reaped by the USA Crushers, to record my friends' vital statistics for matchmaking

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-2020086823435617652008-09-18T22:54:00.000-07:002008-09-23T21:32:50.799-07:00

Before we get into my sequel, I need to take a minute to discuss Is There Life After Boys?, the sequel to We Hate Everything But Boys. This book is actually less about eating ice cream with boys (check out the dude with the feathered hair!) than it is about growing apart from old friends. And aside from having the word "Boys" in the title, it has nothing to do with my book—but I happened to find

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-83085145832507735702008-09-14T21:21:00.000-07:002008-09-18T23:07:21.505-07:00

It's guest author time again! Carey wrote the following (hilarious) chapter book when she was in fourth grade—and she snarked it up so expertly that, well, my work here is pretty much done. The rest of this entry was written by Carey unless otherwise noted. Enjoy!It’s been a long time since I’ve read Veronica the Show-Off by Nancy K. Robinson [Sada says: That links to a book review by a 5th

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-3996192711704203762008-09-11T21:11:00.000-07:002008-09-14T21:32:32.449-07:00

As these school journal entries make clear, I was beginning to have a somewhat inflated opinion of my writing. And—because I was 10—I really believed I had a shot at getting my book published. Yes, the book in which fourth graders rustle up some frighteningly authentic prostitute costumes, spread poo-eating rumors about a girl whose last name is Terd, and manage to not only hollow out a tree but

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-53778046823442012612008-09-07T21:34:00.000-07:002008-09-11T21:19:00.750-07:00

LAST TIME: The club realized they could NOT live without boys after all. Meanwhile, Kelly and Brian's passionate fourth grade love affair made Maggie barf. Or maybe it was the 24-hour flu. Maggie couldn't take all the unfairness, and did what any self-respecting self-pitying 10-year-old would do: run away. She let Sherry tag along, and they ended up climbing inside of a tree—and into the club's

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-58958240769055033022008-09-01T21:13:00.000-07:002008-09-07T21:43:04.838-07:00

LAST TIME: Hooker day came and went in a blaze of scantily clad glory. Maggie was sweatin' new-hottie-in-town Brian, but it turned out that he was IN THE LOVE with her friend and fellow boy-disdaining clubmate Kelly—which was, of course, revealed via an extremely realistic love note. Kelly returned Brian's affections and decided that, in spite of Maggie's feelings and the entire concept of the We

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-88135239997511406792008-08-31T18:45:00.000-07:002008-08-31T18:46:12.544-07:00

Note: As you read the following, please imagine that I am sitting in a director's chair.Now that everyone is chowing down on contraband ring-dings pulled from hollow books and whatnot, let's get to our first order of business: The votes have been tabulated (BTW, I nominate Blogger for club treasurer), and our club name and colors have been determined! We are officially the Heartbreakers, and you

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-22803554029887299922008-08-25T20:41:00.000-07:002008-09-01T21:24:32.784-07:00

LAST TIME: The We Can Live Without Boys club was at last born—and quickly doubled its membership thanks to the addition of a new kid (Sam) and a smoker (Kelly). The club's main initiatives seemed to be:1) Debating at great length the comparative hotness of Kirk Cameron and George Michael;2) Making fun of the preposterously named Laurie Terd;3) Complaining about Kelly's "troublemaker" cousin Emmy;

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-50677359437557671652008-08-21T23:22:00.000-07:002008-08-25T20:55:15.188-07:00

LAST TIME: Maggie and her BFF, Sherry, decided to give up boys... because their friend Marsha got asked on a date and they didn't. I'm still not sure about that logic. The twosome then talked a load of crap behind Marsha's back, giggled evilly because she didn't know that her crush was moving, and avoided her the entire week before her date. Marsha totally called them on their jealousy, and they

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-34293755137855816722008-08-18T21:01:00.000-07:002008-08-21T23:35:27.533-07:00

The following story probably would not have been written had I not discovered Linda Lewis's We Hate Everything But Boys. My friend Katie and I were OBSESSED with this book. We were always wanting to reread it, but it seemed to be perennially checked out from the library, and B. Dalton at the mall so did not stock it. Of course, this only added to its mystique.My memory of this book was that three

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-33471591070830808442008-08-14T23:31:00.000-07:002008-08-31T18:49:47.887-07:00

Soon we're going to delve into fourth grade's magnum opus, We Can Live Without Boys... Can't We?, a tale about a group of boy-crazy gals of varying hair shades who form a club to stave off their testosterone addiction. Since we're going to be, uh, "in da club," as it were, for quite a few posts—the story is 24 pages typed, and most of that is single spaced, egad!—I thought it would behoove us to

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-90787665944595031192008-08-10T18:47:00.000-07:002008-08-14T23:46:14.276-07:00

As promised, more guest authors! First up is obie119, whose all-consuming horse obsession led her to turn a school assignment about Valentine's Day into horse-tastic historical fiction about a pair of globe-trotting animals.Says obie119: This story of mine from second grade is very, very odd. And yes, I did indeed write “copyright Feb 1984” at the top. I was obsessed with horses so the subject of

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-64451452241026986092008-08-06T22:25:00.000-07:002008-11-18T23:33:07.355-08:00

LAST TIME: Janet lost her 98 lifelong friends when she moved three years ago and has been desperate for true friendship ever since. However, that didn't stop her from introducing us to about half of the fourth grade, including the argumentative Teresa, who enjoys faking people out by pretending to cry, and popular Joe Federer (who is sooooooooooooooooooooo, etc., CUTE!). Serendipitously, a nearby

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-12748523962594136962008-08-03T21:00:00.000-07:002008-08-25T21:12:56.942-07:00

Almost as soon as I had the idea for this blog, I called my sister, Genie, and begged her to let me publish this story. Seriously. I hadn't read it in years and I hadn't even started the freaking blog, but I had vivid, vivid memories of this story—and nearly all of them induced pee-your-pants-type laughter.Genie was a year behind me in school, and this was written when she was in fourth grade,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-90058439986211915062008-08-01T10:54:00.000-07:002008-08-01T10:58:12.878-07:00

Yes, I'm totally into having guest authors here on the blog! Seriously, I may have a suitcase full of stories, but once that suitcase is empty... Well, let's not dwell too much on the empty suitcase. As I said, my sister is going to be the first guest, and I know I have at least one other author lined up.However, I'm kind of a continuity nazi, and at this point I don't want to jump around too

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-62533138450132230642008-07-29T22:32:00.000-07:002008-08-03T21:08:27.900-07:00

Ah, the elementary school journal. This is where I first learned the art of bullshitting, although I probably wouldn't have called it that at the time. I actually didn't swear much until middle school; in third grade, my concerned friends forced me to undergo recess "Swearing Lessons," of which they were the instructors. But I digress.Anyway, the way it worked was that at the beginning of

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-32600082465016148562008-07-25T11:55:00.000-07:002008-07-29T22:43:11.447-07:00

The following are ideas for a few stories I was considering writing for a school assignment in fourth grade—but ultimately decided against. What made me think that these were unsuitable plotlines compared to, say, the nonadventures of a dim-witted punk Valley girl and her motorcycle gang? That's something we may never know. But the exciting part here is that we get to see actual ACTION! Or, uh,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-14460728178363116342008-07-21T21:27:00.000-07:002008-11-18T23:33:07.986-08:00

That's right, it's book report time! As I've said before, I devoured books as a child. This is just a sampling of what I had on my plate in fourth grade.Book Report #1The assignment: A picture and a paragraph about my favorite characterTitle: From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. FrankweilerAuthor: E. L. Konigsburg Type: Newbery AwardI think someday I'd like to have lunch with the Newbery

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-55408490965985809052008-07-16T20:51:00.000-07:002008-11-18T23:33:08.529-08:00

This next book deals with familial relations, specifically between sisters. A whole mess of sisters. (At least I was honest with myself about one thing: I did not know crap about boys.) The sisterly bonds are a subject I would return to many, many, many times in my writing, but this book about the McCormick girls seems to be my first effort. What it lacks in plot I think you'll agree it makes up

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-30127935662988965462008-07-13T19:55:00.000-07:002008-07-16T21:02:29.970-07:00

Fourth grade. For me, it was 1987–1988. I was twice scandalized by George Michael: first, with all the butt wiggling (I had never before realized that the rear end could be a desirable body part), then with the song that had the word "sex" (!!!) in the title. (Which I LOVED, being that I was a very sensual 10-year-old. Or that songs with the word "sex" in the title made me giggle. Okay, maybe

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-56621139290553921622008-07-08T20:38:00.000-07:002008-07-13T20:07:27.474-07:00

Hello, and welcome to our third story with the word "friend" in the title! In this gem, new-kid-in-town Cynthia is faced with the age-old question: unpopularity or lung cancer?On a side note, this is also the first of my stories to be written on a typewriter. Yes, I was in third grade, but I was serious, people. Conveniently, my grandfather owned a store that sold used office furniture, so my

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-76604840061039955002008-07-03T15:28:00.000-07:002008-07-08T20:46:32.398-07:00

One of my prized possessions in elementary school was my tape recorder. I'm not talking about some hulking boombox either; this thing was silver, moderately sleek, and—as much as it could be in 1987—compact, meaning I could carry it around with me, oh, EVERYWHERE. At some point all of the following were recorded for posterity:Spy missions in which my sister and I would tape our parents unawares.

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-34797226526214013772008-07-01T03:46:00.000-07:002008-07-03T15:31:46.161-07:00

First off, I apologize if anyone's RSS readers sent them here a few days ago to find, uh, NOTHING. I accidentally pressed the wrong button combo on my itty-bitty keyboard and published this one WAY prematurely. Here it is, for real this time:In second grade I wrote a report on Mary Lou Retton, and my fascination with gymnastics was born. Never mind that I was consistently picked last in Gym due

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-1007487310665367242008-06-25T12:50:00.000-07:002008-11-18T23:33:08.852-08:00

So, remember when I said these were all "chapter books"? I kind of lied. This one is utterly chapterless—but on the plus side, it has an actual ending! Woo hoo! Just don't get used to it...Friends ForeverShould we keep a running tally of how many books have the word "friend" or some variation in the title? This is #2.Mandy woke up early, fixed herself breakfast, (which was only cereal because

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-55669463324789124322008-06-21T14:42:00.000-07:002008-11-18T23:33:09.012-08:00

So this post isn't a story, but I'm thinking it might be a good idea to check in occasionally on my nonfictional preteen life, which—let's be honest—did not involve many motorcycle gangs or families living in black houses (my own house, at the time, was beige).Last time I mentioned that Rags to Riches was my favorite TV show in third grade, but that doesn't properly convey the intensity my

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-65927821291586890392008-06-18T17:51:00.000-07:002008-06-25T13:03:34.494-07:00

LAST TIME: Liz (the coolest girl in the 3rd grade) and T.M. (her sidekick and "girl that's a friend") grew closer, making me think there might be some truth to those pesky lesbian rumors. Meanwhile, Allyson ran away from The Dark House, but her parents were too busy kidnapping Henry and planning her upcoming nuptials to bother with an Amber Alert—or whatever the 1986 equivalent was. Liz and T.M.

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-60648078780896683692008-06-14T09:16:00.000-07:002008-06-19T07:59:45.222-07:00

LAST TIME: Liz, the coolest girl in the 3rd grade, made friends with woefully unstylish (but limber!) T.M. in spite of her short fingernails and green shoes. She then hatched a plot to make over Allyson Prie (member of the puritanical, possibly goth, definitely weird Dark Family) even though she had never spoken a word to her. All in a tizzy to start picking out pastel shades of nail polish and

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-9612696560455037412008-06-10T21:08:00.000-07:002008-11-18T23:33:10.271-08:00

Prior to third grade, I'd been flirting with the idea of being an artist when I grew up, or maybe a teacher, or possibly even an art teacher. But once I turned nine, it was time to stop dicking around and get serious about the writing. (Plus, I figured I could always illustrate my own books. Genius!)This zealousness was in part the result of meeting Marilyn Gould, a childhood friend of my

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2397815097926128176.post-45699215944795468862008-06-07T20:05:00.000-07:002008-11-18T23:33:10.386-08:00

Growing up, I was shy, gawky (see photo), and unathletic. When people ask, I tell them I was an "indoor child." It's not like I never went outdoors, but I preferred activities with a PLOTLINE. (Playing outside? Yeah, sure. Playing that we live in Japan outside? Totally! Playing that we are blind orphans stranded in the woods outside? Hells yes!!!) If you gave me a few books, a pen and paper,

Sadahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11794091589222172196noreply@blogger.com22