Friendship: The Book

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 Baby-sitters on Board! too, and I was powerless to resist the lure of the Super Special style. I mean, what better way to introduce my 100 characters than to let each of them narrate a chapter? Plus, the abundant narration might help to distract from the fact that my book had no plot. SOLD!

Actually, I'm not entirely sure what the plan was here, but I do have three chapters, each narrated by a different fifth grade girl. Bizarrely, while there are only three chapters, there are actually two drafts of the story in the folder. ?! It looks like I started a rewrite circa sixth grade. The differences between the two manuscripts are pretty negligible, put I'll be sure to point out any amusing changes.

Now, are you guys ready to start fifth grade? Again?

Friendship Books #1: Friendship Begins
#1: SYRA CUSE

Just the ten of us starring mom, dad, Toby, Syra, Gloria, Peter, Evie, Hope, Faith, and Patience Cuse. Today's show is about BBBBBBBIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

The first edit happened right off the bat. Maybe Just the Ten of Us was passé by 1990? I don't know, but I rewrote the opening paragraph as:

I was right in the middle of a very good dream about a fairy godmother who was letting me change my name. "When I say the magic words and tap you on the head with my wand." she said. "You will have a new name." I nodded. "Abracadabra hocus pocus." she chanted. She leaned over and was just about to tap me on the head when-

BBBBBIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!

Combined, the intro paragraphs let us know that nothing much has changed with our old friend Syra Cuse: She still has an embarrassingly large family, and she still has an embarrassingly sucky name.

I leaned over and pressed the button to stop my alarm. Why does that always happen to me? Then I remembered, today was the first day of fifth grade and we were starting a new school today because our old one burnt down.

Apparently the school fire was a popular child author plot device. But hey, this presents something of a problem. This is supposed to be the first book in the series (as clearly indicated by the #1), and yet the preadolescent promo material for Syra Cuse describes events that happened prior to this: the Cuses moving to town, the birth of the triplets, etc. What gives? Well, either I was going to iron out these inconsistencies at some later date (probably the same hypothetical point in time at which I was going to finish writing all 852 of these stories) or, like any true series writer, I was prepared to throw chronological caution to the wind. Time was going to pass in Friendship, and at the same time it was not going to pass at all. Fifth grade 4-eva!

I heard mom walk into the bathroom and throw Toby's cat, Kal-Kan out. One of the triplets screamed and mom grumbled. I climbed down off the bunk-bed. I shook my 8½-year-old sister, Gloria. She opened her bright blue eyes and pushed her silky blond hair out of her face. Why didn't I look more like her?

"Friendship." said Gloria. She was wide awake. Friendship is the name of our new school. "I heard your alarm go off."

"Wake up Evie." I said as Gloria bounced out of bed. Evie (Evelyn) just turned 5 and she was starting kindergarten.

I ran into the bathroom [Dude! Mrs. Cuse must be the world's fastest pee-er!] before Toby or Gloria could. Mom was waking up Toby (13) and Peter (6). Peter is the homeless boy we adopted. [Told you so.] He was starting kindergarten too.

I heard my baby sister triplets, Hope, Faith, and Patience gurgling. They are nine months now. Well, 8½.

My mom insisted that the triplets should really be named Faith, Hope, and Charity á la 1 Corinthians 13:13. But I totally ignored her because the Guns N' Roses single "Patience" was hugely popular when I authored this. The Bible or G N' R Lies? Please! There's no contest.

It was then that I noticed that there was rain beating on the house. But there was no thunder or lightning. We get so many bad storms around here, but why today? Of all days? Who knows.

I walked out of the bathroom and mom said, "You're going to walk to school today." I gave her a look and she said, "Go get dressed." [The rewrite changed this to, "Go get dressed, Syra," which allows the next paragraph to actually make sense.]

Oh yeah, you pronounce my name Sara, but my geeky mother thinks it's cute spelling it S-Y-R-A since our last name is Cuse and I was born in Syracuse, New York. We are always moving. We moved here last year. I met Murphy McBrien last year when we were both new and my other friend is Chelsea Burroughs who has lived here almost all her life and is very rich. Some people think she is a snobbishly spoiled brat because she spends her money on clothes. She has very exotic tastes.

Huh, maybe this is why I like Chelsea's outfits. I too must have exotic tastes.

I helped dress Evie and we went down to breakfast. Gloria was long gone.

Dad was reading the newspaper. "The sewer system is clogged and they're supposed to start work tomorrow. Sure hope this rain lets up."

"Hello, my name is Foreshadowing. So nice to meet you!"

Yes, there was going to be a flood. I know this for certain because there's also a sheet of notebook paper in the folder that says:

Ideas:
1) There will be a flood

And that's the only idea. You can see why my stories never got very far.

"Wow." Toby said sarcastically. He is always grumpy when he wakes up. He still looks good. [Um, ew. Thanks, V.C. Andrews. You'll be happy to know that line got the axe in the rewrite.] He used to be real shy and skinny, but over the summer he got some muscle and loosened up. He has blond hair and blue eyes like Gloria.

"TOBEE." whined Evie [the rewrite adds: in her pathetic little voice. So much sisterly love!] "Are you gonna walk me to school?"

"No." I answered. "I am. Toby goes to the middle school."

"I can answer for myself." growled Toby. "I'm in seventh grade and I go to the junior high, but it's right down the street from your school, so I'll walk with you, but I'm going to walk with Chris too." I rolled my eyes, but it was a lie [in the rewrite it's a total lie] because I like Chris. He's stuck-up Michelle Brewer's big brother. He is really cute and popular and started hanging with Toby this summer.

There was a knock on the door. Little Miss Muffet [oooooh, burn!] ran to get it. She opened the door. It was Chris.

"Knocker out of order." giggled Gloria. She think it's hysterical because we don't have a knocker and our doorbell isn't working.

Little Miss Muffet is a big pain. I mean hear is great-looking Chris looking better than ever and Gloria says her stupid joke. I was so embarassed.

Chris just grinned his beautiful smile at Gloria and sat down right across the table from me.

I was dazed.

I'm in love.

Really.

Truly.

L*O*V*E.

Admit it, you guys have missed those asterisks.

#2: Murphy McBrien

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

Toby opened the door. I turned to oatmeal. No, it was worse than oatmeal. I had melted into a slush puppy!


Now you all know how crappy I am at Photoshop. Actually, I'm lying. I don't even have Photoshop, so I was forced to whip that up in Paint. That's almost as embarrassing as Little Miss Muffet's "knocker out of order" joke. (Which I'm not sure I really get, by the way. Maybe you have to be in elementary school?)

"Come in, Murphy." he muttered. Was that a hint of love I heard there? Probably not. What would a nice, adorable, and sweet seventh grade boy like Toby Cuse be doing with a frizzy headed, clumbsy, boring [crossed out: vengeful!] 5th grade girl like me? Don't answer that.

Well, Murphy may have low self-esteem, but you can't really argue with her about the hair.

"Knocker out of order." Gloria yelled. What a stupid joke. My best friend, Syra, was sitting across the table from and staring at Toby's popular friend, Chris Brewer. He's OK.

My friend Casey recently e-mailed me the following hilarious quote from her elementary school diary, which she used to characterize one of the boys in our class: "He's not a dream boy, but he's not barf." I think this is a genius description, and one I'm going to try to employ more often. Therefore, Chris Brewer: not a dream boy, but not barf.

"Earth to Syra." I said. Syra looked up at me and turned red. She told me about her crush on Chris yesterday.

"Hi, Fee." She said. "Have a seat."

I sat down next to her and Evie and across from Gloria. I didn't want to be that obvious. I glanced at Toby.

Slush puppy, I thought to myself.


"Time to head out." said Mrs. Cuse.

Syra grabbed her backpack and umbrella. My hair was soaked and it must've looked like a frizzy mop from all the rain.

"Your parents actually let you walk over in the rain."

"Yeah." I said to Syra. "They go to work earlier now." My parents are high school teachers. I wanted to stick my frizzy mop head into her hall closet.

"Oh, yeah." said Syra. "Toby and Chris are walking with us today."

I almost fainted.

"OK." I said calmly. "I told Chelsea we'd meet her at the corner."

I can't believe I'll be walking with my dream boy.

I can't believe ANYONE is walking in this weather. What neglectful parents! Plus, who doesn't take their child—not to mention their adopted homeless orphan—to school on their first day of kindergarten? I was under the impression that was a milestone of sorts. Sandra and Carl, you are horrible parents. First the punchline name, and now this.

"Sure thing, Fee." said Syra. How could she act so uninterested?

I won't lose my cool.

The ten of us walked outside. Evie shrieked at the rain. Gloria knocked on the door and used her joke. Peter jumped into a puddle. I slipped and Toby caught me.

My hero.

I think I'm going to melt.

"TOBY AND MURPHY SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-N-G." screamed Gloria. I was blushing furiously. Toby kicked Gloria. [What a sweet seventh grade boy!] He wasn't embarrassed.

It's hopeless.

I have no social life.

I want to sink into a puddle and die.

I really want to die.

I look at Toby.

Well, maybe death can wait!

Chelsea was at the corner, waving furiously. She was wearing a new black and hot pink jacket and a tight black mini skirt.

EXOTIC! Well, exotic dancer maybe?

She gets away with murder. She lives with her dad and he lets her do just about anything she wants. So Chelsea takes advantage of that.

I don't blame her.

We met Chelsea at the corner. She was chattering non stop until Gloria shrieked when the wind blew her dress up.

The wind was so wild now and we all had trouble walking except for Chelsea and the boys. [I don't know what Chelsea's secret is. Her miniskirt has wind-repelling powers, perhaps? She's actually the smallest of the three girls.]

Then it blew Chelsea's hot pink umbrella so far away that it was useless to chase it. Chelsea swore under her breath.

We closed our umbrellas.

There was a sudden gust of wind. I grabbed Peter, Syra grabbed Evie, and Toby grabbed Gloria. All of us ducked under a tree as the wind blew off a large branch that almost landed on Chelsea.

Terrible, terrible parents all around.

There was rumble of thunder and jagged lightning cut through the sky.

Someone across the street screamed.

A cliffhanger!

#3: M*I*C*H*E*L*L*E B*R*E*W*E*R

"Shut up." hissed Ellen, but we were all in hysterics.

I was walking to school for the first time. I had always been bused before, but we lived closer so now I could walk to our new school, Friendship. I was walking with my two best friends, Kristin Seals and Ellen Irving.

Kris had just screamed because she saw the Cuse's, Murphy McBrien, Chelsea Burroughs, and my brother walking to school.

She probably scared the life out of them.

"I wonder," said Kris. "How Syra, Murphy, and Chelsea are actually walking to school with Toby and Chris."

"Me too." breathed Ellen. "They're so cute."

Definitely not barf!

I gagged myself. My brother? Cute?

There must be some mistake.

"You guys are really some gross-outs." I said.

"Oh, give it up, Michelle." said Ellen.

"They're hunks." shrieked Kris [13-year-old hunks, yeow!], but I knew she wasn't too interested in them because she really likes Ryan Lorber.

"Completely." squealed Ellen.

"Gross-out." I muttered.

I glanced over at the Brady Bunch. I noticed Chesty's new outfit, complete with matching coat.

CHESTY?! Having seen the illustrations, I'm going to have to disagree.

"Check out Chesty's clothes." I said. "What a slut."

I promised you girl bitchiness, and by God, I'm going to deliver!

"I know." whispered Ellen. "She is such a spoiled brat."

"What gets on my nerves is her always showing off." said Kris.

"Tell me about it." moaned Ellen.

Crossed-out it says: Now we were tired of gossiping about the Geek-o's, Chesty mainly. That so needs to be added back in.

"Hey Ellen, your mom really let you walk when you might catch a COLD." gasped Kris, changing the subject like she always does.

We all giggled.

Ellen's mom is soooo overprotected.

It's totally grossed-out.

Just so you know, Michelle, your catchphrase is wearing awfully thin.

"Only one more block 'til school." Kris announced.

"You mean Friendship." I reminded her.

"Yeah, Friendship." Kris repeated.

"There is water squishing into my shoes and my toes are all gooey." said Ellen.

"Mine too." agreed Kris.

"You guys are complete and total GROSS-OUTS." I announced.

Okay, that time it was valid.

Ellen and Kris just giggled.

How immature.

Rain started to pour down.

"Raindrops keep falling on my head!" sang Kris.

"Will you two just shut up. You're being really immature and it's not funny." I said.

Oh, blah blah, Michelle. You're TEN! You're not supposed to be mature!

"Oh really." said Ellen. "Well, Miss Perfection, I can see how mature YOU are."

"I know you can." I told her.

"Michelle, give it up already. You're not pretty or sophisticated. You don't even get good grades like me and Kris. You're just one big bossy thinks-she's-perfect snob. Just like Chelsea Burroughs. Maybe even worse." screamed Ellen.

Damn, Ellen! It's like an insult volcano just erupted.

Worse?

Worse than Chesty?

Chesty Burroughs?

The biggests, richest, snobby, show-off, spoiled brat? [This sentence... I don't even know. Biggests?]

WORSE?????

That really did it.

"You are one big baby, Ellen. That's why your mom treats you like one." I said.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER." hissed Ellen. I had never seen her this mad before.

Whoa. Either Ellen forgot to take her antipsychotic this morning, or she has been pissed off at Michelle for, like, years. Anyway, Michelle was clearly insulting Ellen, not her mom. It's not like she busted out with: "Yo momma's so stupid, it took her two hours to watch 60 Minutes." Or "Yo momma's so fat, she makes Shamu look like a tic-tac." Or "Yo momma's so stupid, she thought Grape Nuts was an STD."

Okay, okay, I'm stopping.

"I'll talk to you later Kristen." I said as I stomped off.

I'll never speak to her again.

Never.

I can't believe we were ever best friends.

What a brat.

I HATE ELLEN.

And that's where it ends. Although it looks like there was going to be not only a flood, but a DANCE as well. At least that's what this drawing seems to indicate:


Either that or Murphy and Chelsea are handcuffing Syra and carting her off to a fancy-dress girls' prison.

You can see that Chelsea's sugar daddy has once again scored her the best outfit. Syra's dress kind of looks like it went through a paper shredder and got sewn back together. And look! She's still wearing her friendship anklet! But I do like how Murphy and Syra are rocking varying degrees of side pony. Yes, girls, there's totally enough side pony to go around.

And even though this gives us serious proof of Chelsea's lack of chestiness, I will admit that Chesty makes for better name-calling than Little Miss Muffet, The Brady Bunch, and The Geek-o's combined.

NEXT TIME: Holiday-themed journal entries. Because there's no reason why we can't get festive and nostalgic.

Until then, you should definitely check out Deathycat's blog, Cradle to Coffin, for plotless playwriting, poo-filled poetry, and V.C. Andrews books re-enacted by Bratz dolls. It's even awesomer than it sounds.

Syra Cuse

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 twinkle—but the story is set in Buffalo.

SYRA CUSE
Chapter #1.

I always thought I had it real bad. My last name was Cuse. I was born in Syracuse, New York. So my mom thought, wouldn't it be cute if they named me "Sara". Except she had to go and make it cuter by spelling it "S-Y-R-A". So people think my name is "Seara". I wish my parents were normal. Then I wouldn't have to grow up with a dumb name like "Syra Cuse". I can't wait till I can change my name. Only 8 7½ 7 8 8 years to go.

Looks like I was having some math issues. Or deciding-on-the-age-of-the-character issues. Possibly both.

But anyway, I must admit Syra Cuse is a pretty dumb name. It may have been inspired by my discovery of the real-life naming tragedy of Ima Hogg, but I'm not sure. At any rate, it could be worse. Instead of Syra Cuse her name could be Crystal Chanda Leer, Amanda Lay, or April Schauer. And if she was a boy? Well, CRAP, it only gets worse! Dick Swett and Mike Hunt are just the tip of the iceberg. Buck up, Syra!

[Sidenote: I once dated a Mike Hunt for, like, three weeks. I have scads of bad-name cred. Feel free to nominate your worst real-life names in the comments!]

I actually didn't know that Cuse was a real last name until I started watching LOST. Maybe Carlton Cuse is Syra's uncle! In some story, somewhere, I had a character who claimed to be related to Debbie Gibson (total lie) and another character who was related to Richard Marx (for realsies), but she didn't like to brag.

We don't live in Syracuse anymore, thank god. We just moved to Buffalo this summer. School starts in 3 weeks. I'm nervous. I hate new schools. We move around too much. It's like I never make any friends. Well, I used to when I was just a little kid. Now there doesn't seem to be any point in it. To move away and feel bad about it. NO THANK YOU.

10-year-olds, so worldly.

I live with my mom. She just quit her job in Philadelphia as a secretary for the T.E.J. paper company. Because we were moving. It was just as well, she's pregnant again. Of course. I live with dad, too. He builds cars for Pontiac.

Actual parental occupations! Nuh-uh! I am now picturing Mrs. Cuse as Pam Beesly, but with a belly full o' baby. And I'm picturing Mr. Cuse in Michigan.

I live with Toby, too. He's my brother who's 12. He's a car maniac. He has car posters all over the walls. We can just be thankful there aren't naked women draped over the cars. [Consider me thankful.] I also have two little baby sisters, Gloria who's 7 and Evie (Evelyn) who's 4. I'm 10. Our cat, Smoky, just had babies. I guess I should take that as a good omen since kid #5 is on the way. My kitten, Paws, is white with tan on her tail, feet and nose. Toby's is Kal-Kan, Gloria, who got the pretty white one, named her's Milk, Evie's is Chocolate Bar, and Mom named the baby's Apple Sauce.

Those cats are making me hungry.

So, I didn't want to go to school. I had a nightmare Friday night. I dreamt I fell and hit my head on the way to school so I didn't remember anything, not even my name. Except the kids and teacher looked through my stuff and saw "SYRA CUSE" written all over and had a big fight over whether my name was "Seara" or "Sie-ra". I kept screaming those aren't my names, but nobody paid any attention... then I woke up.

Holy amnesia anxiety dream!

I almost fell out of bed. That doesn't sound so bad, but it is if you sleep on the top of a bunk bed. If I did fall and Gloria was asleep (she sleeps on the bottom bunk), I'd fall on Evie. Me, Evie, and Gloria share a room. There's a bunk bed. On the bottom there's this little drawer right off the floor. You pull it out and it's a bed. Well, a matress in a drawer.

I guess Evie sleeps on the mattress-in-a-drawer (or its complicated technical name, trundle bed).

There are 3 bedrooms in our house: Girls, Parents, and Toby.

Toby's room is really small. He's lucky it's his own, being a boy and all.

Yeah, enjoy it while you can, Tobe, because during the course of this book the Cuses were also going to take in a 6-year-old homeless boy who was just, you know, hanging around their house looking hungry. Homeless kids, they're kind of like stray cats!

Well, this morning when I woke up, it was dark outside. It was 8:03. [It's supposed to be August, so I'm thinking... not possible.] So, I went downstairs wearing a long T-shirt. My parents were sitting at the table. Dad was reading the paper. Mom was drinking a cup of coffee. I patted mom's stomach. She was so big already. [Because... she's having triplets! Surprise, Cuses! Your obstetrician is a total hack!] "I can feel him/her kick." I said.

And that's where the inspiration died. But not the babies! They were totally born. The preadolescent promo material reveals a few more plot points:

SYRA CUSE
Syra Cuse is sick of her name. Her whole life is a joke. They've just moved in and right away her perfect little sister [Gloria, whose perfectness was oh-so-subtly symbolized earlier by her pristine white kitten] has wrapped everyone around her little finger. The only thing that's going for Syra are her friends, Murphy and Chelsea. But everyone else thinks that Chelsea is conceited [she's loaded] and that Murphy stole some things over at Eleanor's house. [Eleanor Jefferson! Also loaded, but for some reason deemed not conceited.] So they stick Syra right in the middle. She knows Murphy is innocent and that Chelsea is rich, but she's still nice. But how can she explain that to her whole grade? [Hopefully by using a sentence that's phrased a little less awkwardly.] On top of everything else, her mom's having triplets. Her family is just the ten of us. How will she survive?

And if you think that's going to be the last Just the Ten of Us reference in my works, you are sorely mistaken.

Anyway, don't worry! There's more Syra Cuse action in Friendship: The Book, so we may as well get to know her and her friends a little better. I know, FRIENDS! Didn't see that coming!

First we have Syra, which, by the way, I cannot stop reading as the dreaded "Seara." Sandra and Carl, what were you thinking? (Those are her parents' names. I checked the town census. OH MY HOLY GOD, you guys! Carlton Cuse isn't her uncle, he's her DAD! And he produces the mindfuck that is LOST! This is amazing! Who's loaded now, Eleanor?) Um, but yeah, the character sketches:


My mom wrote a comment on the last post asking whether I disliked drawing hands. The answer is YES, thanks for asking. In fact, I had a problem with all appendages. As you can see here, I redrew Syra's hands and yet she still ended up with a freakishly undersized left extremity. Maybe that mass of friendship bracelets is blocking the flow of blood to her fingers, resulting in a lack of growth? She also has a friendship anklet—but it doesn't seem to have prevented her feet from morphing into bricks of flesh with teeny-tiny toe fringe. If I were you, Syra, I'd put some shoes on.

Also, you'd think that someone who hates her name so much would refrain from wearing T-shirts that that advertise it (see above her left not-yet-a-breast).

Next we have Chelsea. I loooooved the named Chelsea. One of my unborn children was slated to be a Chelsea at this point in time. Chelsea Burroughs appears to have a Stacey McGill–type perm going here, but honestly, guys? I'm kinda into her cowl-neck dress and crazy sunburst belt. Yeah, I would so wear that belt. But our fashion-forward pal is busting a serious deer in the headlights look. And we may or may not have caught her in the middle of the "put your left hand in" verse of "The Hokey Pokey."


But if Chelsea looks surprised, Murphy's on the verge of tears. Which makes sense given the false thievery accusations. Or the pain it must cause her stunted neck to support her massive, massive head. Beyond that, she has a nice late-'80s layered skirt on. Man, did I love those skirts. But now I'm confused: Does Chelsea have the perm or does Murphy? I think Murphy has naturally curly hair that she brushes when dry. WHY does no one tell you as a child not to brush your hair when dry?


Wait, is Syra the only one with friendship bracelets on? Well that's plain crazy, because we know she doesn't have any other friends! Unless she's given them to Paws and Kal-Kan.

I have one more picture before I go, and this one really showcases how far I'd go to avoid drawing limbs.

Or else some accident was going to render Murphy a serious amputee. Either way, Murphy Got Her Gun looks pretty appalled. You can also see that her last name used to be McGraw. That clearly had to be changed. Though I couldn't tell you why.

NEXT TIME: An alternate first day of school in the Friendship Super Special. Chapter 1's narrator? Syra "That's Pronounced Sara, My Mom's Just a Dumbass" Cuse.

In the Land of Lost Books: The Trylaons

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 assorted adults.)

This time, before I jumped into the intricate plotline, I whipped up something of a character fact sheet. Because when dealing with a ginormous family, you really need a way to keep track of who's who, their ages, and important details like their catchphrases—which, of course, you must then find a way to worm into the story's dialogue by any means necessary. Catchphrases are just as good as a plot, right?

The Trylaons

If you're stumbling over how to pronounce that, never fear! It will be spelled phonetically in the story!

1. Eric Nathaniel Trylaon 39
Kids are too darn crazy to understand.

2. Tamitha Devere McBrake Trylaon 36
Just like old times, huh?

3. Samantha Elizabeth Trylaon 14
No, really, he did?
Pretty, cheerful, energetic, looking for a good time.

There are one-line descriptions of each child, but not the parents or the baby. Because in case you haven't noticed, parents and babies played extremely minor roles in my work at this point. They were the literary equivalent of extras.

4. Marilyn Elaine Trylaon 12
Soak your head in a bucket of rotten water!
Cute, reliable, good ideas, wants to write a book.

5. Nicole Bianca Trylaon 9
A good book can take your mind off anything.
Cute, reader, organized, wants to grow up fast.

6. Adam Timothy Trylaon 7
Try jogging, it's good for the brain.
Cute, loud, athletic, wants to be in olympics.

7. Shenelle Caroline Trylaon 5
Shhh... my baby's sleeping now.
Cute, quiet, caring, just wants to be a kid.

8. Michael Jeremy Trylaon 1
Goo... Ma ma Shenelle.

And now to the riveting page and a half of sibling bickering!:

Marilyn stomped into the Trylaon kitchen. (Pronouned Trīlŏn)

Seriously. My mom must have helped me with that.

"Well, it's about time!" said Samantha her 14-year-old sister.
"Oh, soak your head in a bucket of rotten water!" she answered.
"Girls," their mother said "Be quiet, your father had a tough day at work."
"I had a tough day at school." said Marilyn as she bit into an apple.
"Don't ruin your apitite!" cried Samantha.

Just then Adam burst through the door.
"I won! There, Nicole, I won!" he said.
"You cheated!" complained Nicole.
"There you are, Nicole! Get in the car for your dentist's appointment." said mother.
"I hate the dentist!" she yelled as they walked out of the door.

Just bring along something to read! A good book can take your mind off anything, Nicole!

Just then, Shenelle came in.
"Okay." she said. "Where is she?"
"Where's who?"
"Champ."
Samantha screamed. "That rat got out again?"
"It's a hamster." replied Shenelle.
"Well, whatever. Just find it."
"I see I'm not wanted." and Shenelle left. [Yes, according to the character fact sheet, she is five.]
"You certainly aren't." muttered Samantha.
"I heard that!" shouted Shenelle.
"Oh, so what." answered Samantha.
"Marilyn rolled her eyes. "I'm outta here." she said.
Right after she left dad walked in, half-asleep still.

Work was so bad he had to take a nap.

"Hey, dad!" said Samantha and she waved absently.
"Wanna run the marathon, dad?" teased Adam and he jogged in place.

You guys know seven-year-olds who run marathons, right? RIGHT?

"Boy, oh, boy" said dad. "You kids makin' a big ol' racket down here. Can't sleep."

Oh, Eric! You know kids are too darn crazy to understand!

"Right dad. Hey, I'm gonna call Kathy."
"Don't tie up the line."
"Right dad." she said as she dialed. "Kathy... Really... No,.... he did.... what.... I hate her... do you really think so? Yeah?"
Then Adam rolled his eyes and he left along with dad who said "Don't stay on too long."
"Right dad." said Samantha.
"Boy," said dad when they got out. "I have some headache." He knocked on it.

Exactly how does one knock on a headache?

"Try jogging, it's good for the brain." Adam called down the stairs.
"Okay," said dad. "Maybe I'll try it."

And then it ends. Ahhh, just like old times!

So, was all of this sibling rivalry (erm, loathing?) imagined for the sake of the story, or did it have some basis in reality? Read the following journal entries and you tell me...

2/4/88
Journal topic: The trouble with brothers and sisters

The trouble about my sister is that she bites! It is not mature or lady like for a 9-year-old to bite but, she does. Also, she makes ugly faces and rude noises. She thinks she can always get her way. Oh, she also tries to bribe my brother with candy and always bursts into my room. WHAT A PAIN!

The trouble about my brother is that he is too young to understand what homework is. He thinks 'weapons' and 'battle beasts' are everything. Also, he likes to play with 'Barbie' dolls. He's afraid to walk up the basement stairs but he can walk down. OH NO!

Sometimes brothers and sisters can be O.K. if they work at it. My sister is mainly a big pain. Most of the time my brother is nice but he drives me crazy. OH WELL!

12/14/87
Journal topic: What works for me in a conflict

If I am in a conflict with my sister I walk away. I do that sometimes. Sometimes I tell my mom. Sometimes I hit her. I hit her if she hits me or if she won't leave me alone.

If I am in a conflict with my brother I take what I want and go. Sometimes I tell my mom. Most of the time I pretend to choke him. Then he won't bother me.

If I am in a conflict with my mom or dad I go in my room and blast my radio. Sometimes I blast my casette player. I stomp my feet and slam doors. My dad says if we keep slamming the doors, he will take them off their hinges.

In fact, he did.

If I solve a conflict in a non-violent way I tell mom. Or I can quietly go to my room. Or I can walk away. Or I can just stop.

Question: Does it count as violence if you're just pretending to choke someone?

I often pray that I will not be cursed with children as obnoxious as I was. Please, God, pleeeeeease.

NEXT TIME: Guest author (and my BFF) Jamie lets us peek inside her "celebrity"-autographed diary.