Dear Sig: The Saga Continues

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, only the most lusted-after girl in school.

So we did what any girls in our situation would do: We wrote Sig a letter telling him we liked him. Both of us. Me and my infinitely more alluring romantic rival. Together. Because I was a genius. And then we were like, "Which one of us you do like—that is, like like—more? OUT WITH IT, MAN!"

But Sig was not playing our game. He wrote back saying that we were both pretty (wooooooo!), and that he liked BOTH of us and couldn't decide. Which was a) totally baffling (really? he didn't like Jessica more? JESSICA??) and b) totally frustrating.

It also meant that the letters continued. Because Jessica may have been a gajillion times more popular with the boyfolk, but I could surely win him over with my... erm... heart-shaped stationery? The following letter was typed (how casual!) on paper that looked like this:

Raise your hand if you're embarrassed already.

Pre-letter disclaimer: Obviously I never sent this to him, because I still have it in my possession. What I don't know is whether or not I mailed off a later draft. Please, God, I pray that I did not.

July 15, 1988

Dear Sig,

Tomorrow I'm going on vacation. We're going to (in order) Brockport (to see my friends Brendan and Caitlin), Canada (to camp), Gasport (to see my cousins, Bonnie and Jimmy), and Lockport (to see my cousins, Stephanie and the twins, Steven and Michael).*

*The "ports" are in New York.

Yes, my letter included a footnote. Did I know how to woo a 10-year-old boy or WHAT? Oh, and a previous letter must have suggested a picture exchange, because after the really thrilling description of my upcoming trip, I launch into this:

Oh, I don't have any decent pictures to send you right now. I'm going to try and get my mom to take some acceptable ones while we're away.

Er, like this one?

There is absolutely nothing acceptable about those bangs.

Oh, I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that this was the Worst Cut Era? Yeah. You know how people sometimes refer to giant '80s bangs as "The Claw"? Mine were more along the lines of "Satan's Gimpy, Gnarled Hand." So I had that going for me. But wait! There's more!

My boyfriend thinks I looked like one of the Ramones.
Every young girl's dream!

Oh yeah, these pictures were going to make him forget allllll about Jessica. Also, notice how I'm close-lipped in all of the shots? That's because I'd recently acquired a mouthful of metal. Hot, right? Jessica WHO??

Are you going to send yours? The three of us, you know, you, me, Jessica, should all get together soon and talk.

I'm sure Sig was just counting down the days until he could be hounded about this in person instead of via the USPS.

Have you told anyone about this? Well, Jess and I told Katie, the three of us are best friends. I doubt there's anything left to say.

Good instinct, Sada! Keep it short and sweet. The less you say, the less likely you are to utterly humiliate yourself. Just sign your name and we'll—oh CRAP—

Well, I just wish you'd like me more than Jessica. Everyone likes Jessica. The boys, I mean. When they look at me they say, "Ew, gross, contact" or something similar.

"Contact" was something that you would say to protect yourself against the germs of unpopularity. Like, say someone's hand accidentally brushed against [Insert name of unpopular child] while waiting in line for the slide; that person would then have the [Name of unpopular kid] Touch, and would have to rid him or herself of said Touch by thrusting it upon an unsuspecting victim. The ONLY WAY to avoid getting The Touch was to yell, "Contact!" or, if you were feeling charitable, "Contact! Detours! Force field!" If I remember correctly, this was a more powerful form of Contact that would also protect any friends in your immediate vicinity.

So, to sum up: Everyone with a wang lurves Jessica, and they find me so repellent that they must verbally arm themselves against my cooties. Just, like, in case you forgot, Sig! (You guys, I don't even know. Was I going for the PITY LIKE? Oh, the shame.)

It's nice to know that someone, besides my family and friends thinks I'm pretty.

Because—news flash!—boys think I am The Ug.

I think you're cute. Us girls call boys "cute" if they look good.

Good thing I let him in on that big secret! Jessica recently reminded me of a later incident in which we were walking to her house and Sig had joined us (hi, he obvs liked us!), and we started telling him how comely he was.

comely adj. Vocabulary word courtesy of Judy Blume. According to Rachel Robinson, it means "attractive . . . good looking . . . cute . . ."

Shockingly, Sig managed to glean the meaning from context. The context being along the lines of "Oh, Sig, you are soooooooOOOOOOOoooooooo COMELY!"

And then I ended the letter with:

L*O*V*E,
S*A*D*A

L*O*V*E? I'll tell you what I loved: asterisks. Sweet Jesus.

P.S. WRITE BACK SOON

P.P.S. If you get a letter from Rachel, don't write her back.

Because no letter is complete without a dig at Rachel! I think that ultimately only a couple of letters were exchanged (I don't see why Sig wouldn't have written back ASAP!), but I do remember that he gave both Jessica and I pink-and-purple friendship bracelets that he made for us. (ZOMG, a boy made me something! This was almost as cool as being in a skateboard gang!!)

I didn't keep a diary in fifth grade, but there's a mention in my school journal about Sig and his puppy stopping by Jessica's house while I was over (me: apparently unfazed that he was randomly stopping by Jessica's? or did we invite him?). That year Sig played the lead in our school play, The Emperor's New Clothes. Of course, he wasn't actually NAKED, but we had to pretend that he was. You can imagine the maniacal giggling that occurred.

And I would insist on going to Family Skate at the ice rink every freaking week because Sig went too and sometimes he would skate with me for a bit (woooooooo! again). The most dramatic Family Skate event involved my friend Casey, who broke her leg while skating with me and had to be carried off the ice by Sig's dad—oh, the mortification! Afterward Sig skated up to me and said, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall, huh?" I still don't know what he meant by that. In hindsight, I think he was just trying to make conversation, but in the moment, I was infuriated that he dare cast aspersions on my injured friend, and I came back with this incredibly witty rejoinder: "Well, I guess Casey must have a really big LEG then!!!" Um... ? What does that even MEAN?? (I don't know, but I was definitely mad at him for, like, at least two days.)

I do have some dishy materials from a sleepover with Katie. First of all, we rated ten of the boys in our class (as preteen girls are wont to do) on a scale of 1–10. I rated Sig the highest with a 9½; the baby-faced new boy Aaron, who lived a few doors down from Sig, a 7; and the remaining boys in the 2 to 6 range. Harsh! Katie, meanwhile, gave Sig a 10, when she supposedly liked Nathan—whom she only rated a 9! WTF, Katie?!

Also, to answer your question: YES, for some reason I have kept a copy of fifth grade boy ratings for TWENTY YEARS. There's obviously something wrong with me. But! Below the Boy Ratings, there's a list of the following:

People (or things) that go together in our grade:

1. Rebecca and Nathan
2. Sig and Jessica
3. Katie and Chuck [Chuck was the "hot stable boy" where Katie rode horses. Except for the part where he didn't actually exist. We started to get suspicious when we realized his letters were all written in Katie's handwriting.]
4. Rachel and Yoav
5. Michael and Laura [crossed out, I suppose, after they "broke up"]

But yes, did you see #2? It's true. The inevitable happened: Sig asked Jessica to "go with him." I was crushed. (Actually, I was home sick that day, and I don't really remember what happened. But I'm sure I was crushed.) And my family had just moved onto his very street! But, oh, what did it matter now?

I tried briefly to focus my attentions on Aaron, the new boy, despite the fact that he was only a 7. And by "focus my attentions" I mean "fantasize that I might lure him to my house to play a few rounds on our awesome new mini-pinball machine." But then all the other girls decided they liked Aaron too (one friend even puffy-painted "I ♥ Aaron" on her socks, so you know she meant business), so I was like, screw this. Plus, living on Sig's street meant that sometimes he would bike past my house. Like, while Bon Jovi was poignantly singing "I'll Be There for You" in the background. I swear to you.

So, he may have picked Jessica, but whatever—this shit was clearly meant to be. I knew it; Jon Bon Jovi knew it; and in his heart, I believed Sig knew it too. On the other side of the "Boy Ratings" paper is a list entitled "Who Boys Like," and you know who's listed under Sig? That's right: Jessica and Sada. I was keeping the dream alive, you guys. KEEPING THE DREAM ALIVE.

The saga? To Be Continued...

Also, in my dedication to embarrassing myself as much as humanly possible (and because, hey, I wondered what he was up to), I did it: I TRACKED SIG DOWN. And I sent him a link to The Sig Saga. Oh yeah I did. However, because he has the memory of a normal person instead of, like, a freaky computer elephant (ahem), he didn't recall too many of the specifics. He did say: "Offhand what I remember is having to deal with the barrage of notes and letters and phone calls from you girls when all I really wanted to do was jump my bike off the curb or play street hockey." Which... yep. That sounds about right.

One of the best parts, though, is how I finally found him: through my third grade crush, Andrew. That's right, people. I've been e-mailing all the boys I had the hots for in elementary school. I even confessed my crush-of-old to Andrew (he was not, I'm pleased to report, the recipient of any third grade letters) and he wrote back that he had a crush on—I am not even making this up!—JESSICA. Of course he did.

NEXT TIME: A rare look into the mind of the fifth grade boy! My brother proves that snarkiness runs in the family.

P.S. Longer Letter Later

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 covering here.

I had tried coauthoring a book before with my friends Katie and Jessica. The plan was that each of us would write a paragraph, then hand it off to the next person. The problem? We never made it to page two. We did, however, write some preadolescent promo material:

LIFE ISN'T FAIR
Courtney used to think her life was great. She isn't popular and she isn't a total dweeb. Her and her best friend, Teri, have it made. And Courtney's boyfriend is the most popular boy in school. Then Courtney's parents are having a baby, and Courtney eavesdrops and discovers the fact that she's adopted and she knows that her parents don't want her. When her boyfriend dumps her, that's when she decides that life isn't fair. So she [wait for it...] runs away.

Of course she does! By the way, I think we may need to resurrect the word "dweeb."

For our next cowritten venture, Katie and I decided to simplify things. Our book would be a series of letters written by two friends who were having a much more interesting summer than we were. Plus, this would give us an excuse to utilize a four-color pen (Katie) and dot our i's with hearts (me).


But first we had to jot down a list of our respective four-color pen pals' vital statistics and favorite T.V. shows—this allowed us to make extraneous pop culture references and concoct zany hobbies that no real-life fifth grader would ever admit to being interested in. My character, Andrea Forleene, loved goats and Corey Haim.

Full name: Andrea Heather Forleene
D.O.B.: October 4, 1977
Sex: Female
Fav. Food: Chocolate cigars

Because everyone knows chocolate tastes better when it's shaped like a phallus. Mmm!

Fav. Colors: Black and hot pink

Fav. T.V. show: The Wonder Years
Fav. Animal: Goat
Fav. Song: I Saw Him Standing There Only In My Dreams
Fav. Actor: Cory Haim
Fav. Actress: Kristy Swanson

I was very impressed with her performance in Flowers in the Attic. And that movie where she narrowly escapes death by becoming a killer robot.

Fav. Singer(s): Debbie Gibson
Fav. Movie: Three Men And A Baby

Remember those rumors about how there was a ghost of a little boy in Three Men and a Baby—but it turned out some sloppy crew member just left a cardboard cutout of Ted Danson wearing a top hat and tuxedo in the scene? Lame!

Worst urban legend ever. It should at least be the ghost of Guttenberg!

Height: 4'8"

Weight: 79½
Family: dad - Christopher (41), mom - Stephanie (39), sister - Christina (16), sister - Brittany (14½), brother - Sean (12½), and me!! Andrea (10½)
Fav. Sport: Kickball
Hair Color: Brown wavy, shoulder-length
Eye Color: Brown

Are you ready for the hobbies? This is when we get into WTF territory.

Hobbies: Writing Letters, Singing, Riding Trains, Collecting fake flowers, making pyramids out of old pop cans, recycling, eating chocolate, collecting flashlights, wearing tons of jewelry, making my family members pissed.

Making pyramids out of old pop cans? Seriously? That's how Andrea spends her time? And I thought the flashlight collection was so genius, I actually reused it in another story. !!! Or perhaps you could say I "recycled" it, because recycling is one of my hobbies. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to catch a train to the fake flower shop. Right after I tell off my mom.

Katie's character was Leslie Nettles, a creative speller who belonged to organizations with unwieldy acronyms for names.

Full Name: Leslie Elizabeth Nettles
D.O.B.: July 7, 1977
Sex: Female
Favorite Food: Corean Chiken Balls

Neither Katie nor I had ever eaten a Korean chicken ball, but we HAD seen the movie Hello Again, starring Shelley Long as a woman who chokes to death on a Korean chicken ball only to be magically raised from the grave one year later by her woo-woo sister, Zelda. Unfortunately, Shelley Long does not come back as a zombie, but she does end up making out with Gabriel Byrne, so I guess that's cool too.

Favorite Color: Peach
Favorite T.V. Show: Miami Vice
Favorite Animal: Saint Bernardo

Saint Bernardo?

Do you get it? Do you get it?

You might if you realize that's Bernardo from West Side Story, and that's he's wearing a shoddily drawn halo. (Crap, jokes aren't funny if you have to explain them, are they?)

Favorite Song: Pour Some Sugar on Me
Favorite Singer(s): Def Leppard
Favorite Movie: [Blank]
Hieght: [Blank]
Wieght: [Blank]
Family Members: Mom: Frances (38), Dad Francis (39), Maria (7), Sandra (16), Marx (16), Alan (13)

We thought it would be beyond hilarious to have two parents with the same name. In retrospect, I think it would be better if their last name was Francis too. Also, MARX? What do we think? Are Frances and Francis commie pinkos or Marx Brothers fans? Or both?

Favorite Sport: Horse Back Riding, Water Skiing
Hair: Red
Eyes: Green
Hobbies: Basket Ball, Dancing, Acting, Bug Collecting, Pillow Case Collecting, Cooking, A.C.A.O.A.F.G.W., making my sister jealous, Water Skiing, Horse Back Riding, Listening to the OLDIES [do you think she sweats to them as well?], collecting podel skirts (Todd)

I know what you're thinking—that is, after you've gotten past the pillow case collection and the podel skirts (Todd, by the way, is not the name of one of the podels; he's Leslie's love interest, as you'll see shortly). What you're wondering is "What the hell is the A.C.A.O.A.F.G.W.?" The disturbing part is that IT DIDN'T TAKE ME THAT LONG TO FIGURE IT OUT. I'm pretty sure Leslie belongs to the Anti-Chauvinist Association of America for Girls and Women. And the protagonist from Life Isn't Fair was also a member! [Courtney Allison Sett also had a pet iguana named Igor (who she would totally fall for if she were an iguana!), her boyfriend was a georgiouse skater, and she had a weird habit of stating facts about herself aloud.] I'm not exactly sure what the A.C.A.O.A.F.G.W. did at their meetings, but I suspect it may have involved comparing men to farm animals.

Katie started off the letter writing. Her character had way more exciting vacation plans than mine did.

Dear Andrea,

Hi, how are you? I'm fine! How do you like being with your cousins all of the time? It gets really hot down here. You know Australia always get to be 90° everyday? Well, it's true! I miss my dog Duchess sooooooo much! Do you miss your house?

My grandparents, well, really my grandma can be such a NAG, with a capital N! There's one kangaroo who is hurt and is really tame who eats out of my hand. COOL, huh? I bet you could never get an animal to eat out of your hands!

Well, gotta go!

Chow-Chow, Taa

Your Friend
Leslie E. Nettles

Hello, and welcome to the portion of our story entitled Awesomely True Facts About Australia! As you probably know, the seasons Down Under are opposite those of the U.S. So when we are experiencing summer here, in Australia it's wintertime. What you may not know is that IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER, because it's always 90° in Australia, every single day! It's also a little-known fact that all Ozzies have wild kangaroos in their backyards. Kangaroos are kind of like the raccoons of Australia. Except they don't have opposable thumbs. And they like to be stroked when injured.

DearTO: Leslie Elizabeth Nettles,

For your information, ELIZABETH, my Aunt & Uncle and cousins live on a farm (SORT OF) here in Vermont. SO animals like goats and stuff eat RIGHT out of my hands. SO THERE! So chow yourself out!

Andrea Heather Forleene

P.S. Your grandma's right to NAG you!

In patented Sada style, my character goes totally frigging psycho after the smallest provocation. Also, I think there was some (unwritten) backstory about how Leslie hated her middle name, hence Andrea referring to her as Elizabeth in CRAZY CAPS™. However, I do enjoy "Chow yourself out!" as an insult. I like to think of it as a less-sophisticated version of "Why don't you take a long walk off a short pier?"—except I think it might involve overindulgence at the Old Country Buffet.

Dear Andrea,

Listen, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be a brat but I was just sooooo excited about the KANGAROO eating out of my hand. By the way, my grandmother does NOT have the right to nag me.

In your next letter, I hope you aren't mad at me! Gueese what? I met this really neat boy/guy? named Todd. He's got brown hair and green eyes! His grandmother lives down here too. He seems like he's pretty smart but I don't know.

Write Back Soon!

Chow-Chow, Taa

Your Friend,
Leslie E. Nettles

Well, I'm not surprised she doesn't know if Todd's smart. She can't even tell if he's a boy/guy!

Dear Leslie Patricia, [Because Patricia is a waaaay hipper name that Elizabeth.]

Well O.K. you're forgiven, just don't act so conceited! O.K. I guess you can't help it. [Ooh, BURN!] Tell me more about TODD! He sounds SUPER GREAT! No boys around here except for my dad, Sean, and my cousins Danny (10) and Aaron (5). Danny has a crush on me! MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD. Isn't that sick? I hope the KANGAROO feels better. O.K. so my other cousin is a girl and her name is Allison and she's 12 and we call her Allie.

Your friend, Andi

P.S. Write back soon.

Thankfully, all those Flowers in the Attic viewings haven't warp Andrea's ideas about what activities are appropriate to engage in with your own flesh and blood.

Dear Andrea,

Hi! Listen, I don't think Andi is such a good name, I mean it's just really not your style! Really, who gave you that name? Any way if you like it, Andi.

Sooo, you want to know more about MY Todd? ["MY" is actually underlined three times in three different colors, but I could only use one here.] You're probably thinking: "her Todd," huh? Well, he asked me to go to the BEACH with him! ALONE! Without any adults! COOL!

It really is gross about Danny! Listen is he cute? How's your aunt? My grandma is just great. Oh, my grandpa caught a 27 bl. fish. Gotta go

Chow-Chow, Taa
Your Friend,
Leslie, (Lesi)

More Awesomely True Facts About Australia: They don't actually use the metric system there. Instead, they use an obscure version the United States customary system in which everything is spelled backwards. That fish weighed 27 sdnuop!

Also, I'm not going to make a joke about Leslie's new nickname and Todd's questionable gender. I AM TAKING THE HIGH ROAD.

Dear Les,

Well, I don't think Lesi is the name for you. Les and Lesli would be O.K. I can't believe you asked if Danny was cute! I mean, he's only a child, besides you have "your Todd" remember. Anyway, O.K., what did you DO at the beach and I'm not being gross, Les. My cousin Allie is really cool and really nice! She took me to the mall yesterday and I got you a present. Wait and see what it is.

Your friend,
Hillary Diana

P.S. I'm changing my name to Hillary, OK?

If you've been paying attention, you may have noted that Andrea's wantin'-to-be-kissin' cousin is only six months younger than she is. An infant, clearly.

Dear Hillary,

You know I like that name! I think I'd like to meet Allie! She sounds cool! When I come back you have to take me to Vermont! Anyway, you have a sick mind! Todd and I went on a walk along the beach and then we went for a soda. Cool, huh!? Your right though, it was gross asking about Danny! I found out something you might be interested in! Todd has got a brother, TWin brother!

Write Soon

Chow-Chow, Taa

Lesli!

Nothing like a walk on the beach in winter. Good thing Australia is 90° year-round! I must say, though, I have my doubts about this intercontinental blind date scheme.

Dear Lesli,

You are right! Allie is cool! What's Todd's brother's name? And I don't have a sick mind!!! By the way, did you share a soda!?! O.K. I was only joking, Les. So when's the wedding? O.K. No more. I stopped. Allie is really nice! We went to the movies and she introduced me to Jeremy, this super-great seventh grader! My new name is Diane. Do you like that name? There are so many names. I hate the name "Andrea"!

Your friend,

Di

I don't know why I had all these characters who were dissatisfied with their names. I've always been kind of fond of mine. I do, however, remember constantly coming up with nicknames for myself (for example, Biff) that never, ever stuck. I can't imagine why.

Dear Di,

I've got a new image! I've got a totally COOL new wardrobe. Todd has this cousin, Glory, who is really cool and she went shopping with me! I got a cool pink skirt with a yellow shirt. So COOL! Todd and I went to the movies and he, well, he sort of, well..., he, uh, he KISSED ME! Uggg! asked me to go to a party with him. Glory helped me pick out this cool dress too! It's just so cool! Oh, yeah, Brian, well, he wants to meet you! But, it's going to be sort of hard for you to meet, but I gave him your address!

Chow-Chow, Taa

Lesli!

And that's it. I mean, if Katie was going to RENEGE ON THE KISSING (the hell?!), where was this story going to go? Plus, she totally stole my getting-made-over-by-a-cool-cousin plotline. Godammit! How was I ever going to top the pink skirt and yellow shirt combo??? She set the coolness bar way too high.

NEXT TIME: Fifth grade book reports, a.k.a. an excuse for 11-year-old me to write some pretty terrible jacket copy.

Until then... Chow-Chow, Taa!

My Life as a Pre-Teen

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 degenerates into boy craziness and a roll call of Santa's reindeer.

No, really.

Dear Sam,

I know we were fighting when you left and I wanted to say sorry. Carolyn asked why weren't you here at camp. I told her about your parents. She says shes sorry, but you're tough and you can make it. I know you can too.

Love, Anita

So, it sounds like her parents are dead, right? And that she'll just have to be a tough little orphan and muddle through this hard-knock life, right?

WRONG.

Dear Anita,

Apology accepted and I'm sorry too. Out here we wake up at 5 to eat breakfast. Gram is cooking and Gramps is milking the cows. Missy and I dress in 5 minute flat. Then we dress Jason. Missy has been having bad dreams. I get up and comfort her. We may be back next year.

love - sam sam sam

W*R*I*T*E B*A*C*K S*O*O*N

Ahh, old habits die hard.

Okay, so Gram and Gramps own a farm. What did I know about farms?

Farm Fun Fact #1: People on farms wake up early! Crazy early!

Farm Fun Fact #2: People on farms milk cows. Does this mean Gram and Gramps own a dairy farm? Hardly! That's because...

Farm Fun Fact #3: ALL farms have cows. They, like, come with the barn or something.

Also, we learn that Missy's been having bad dreams, which seems to support the Dead Parents theory. But then the "plot" "thickens": The kids may be returning to their hometown next year? How? Why? What the frig?

But wait—I bet you guys don't even CARE about dairy farms and mysteriously absent parents! I know what you want to hear about: BOYS!!!

Dear Sam,

I think Adam Lone likes me. He calls himself Lone Star. (boys) APOLOGY ACCEPTED.

Love: Ani

Anita? Is that you?

I also like how Adam has nicknamed himself after the state of Texas. Oh, boys!

Dear Ani(ta),

Old Lone Star? Do you like him? Jason rides the donkey and ponies. Missy has a boyfriend named Eddie. He is 8, like her. We went to a county square-dance. This boy called Jeremy asked me to dance. I didn't want to because it was like pimple city. [Pimple City = my new band name.] Gram and Gramps told him yes without asking me. He sprayed me through his retainer. To top it off this cute guy named Brian kept looking at me. He had been about to ask me when old puss-face had.

MY REPUTATION IS RUINED.

love - sam sam sam

According to the Friendship Info folder, Jason is 3. Who lets a 3-year-old ride a donkey?? This leads us to several more Farm Fun Facts.

Farm Fun Fact #4: All farms have donkeys and ponies, strictly for your riding pleasure.

Farm Fun Fact #5: What do you do for fun on a farm (aside from riding the abundant donkeys and ponies)? Why, go to a square dance, of course!

Notice how Sam's coerced interaction with Jeremy and his newly straightened teeth, metropolis of acne, and kitten face (eh?) is FAR more important the nightmare-inducing events that befell her parents. OBVS.

Dear Sam,

Yes, I like Old Adam Lone Star. What are the ponies names? What does Brian look like. Adam got his braces off and his hair buzzed. He's cute. How are your parents. I have been hanging out with Jo and Sari. They are nice. Jo has a cute new haircut. Do you have any new friends? WE ALL MISS YOU, SAMMI.

Love, Ani.

P,S, everyone calls me Ani now.

It is you! Or... is it Lone Star with his newly buzzed hair?? Crap!

Did you notice it? Did you notice it? She asked (or, rather, stated—there's no question mark involved), "How are your parents." Based on that, I think we have to assume they are NOT DEAD, unless there is something incredibly, frighteningly wrong with Ani.

Something wronger than this weave, even.

Also, what is this funny business about kids get their braces OFF in fifth grade? Keep dreaming, sister.

Oh, but let's see how Sam answers this pointed question about her parents' welfare.

Dear Ani,

Lone Star? Grow up and drink some coffee to wash down that Kool-Aid. Brian is so gorgeous I can't describe him. [...But I will.] Okay, he's got blond/brown hair and blue/greenNOturquoise eyes. He's about 4'11". He's nice and sweet and cute and funny and gorgeous and GREAT. The ponies are called Cinnamon and Ginger. The donkey's name is Tucker. We call him Tuck. The horses names are Dasher, Dancer, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen, Rudolph and Snow Ball Prancer.

Oh, sorry, she was too busy naming farm animals and describing the indescribable Brian to explain anything relevant to the plot of this story. Though, to be fair, Brian DOES sound pretty indescribable, what with the hair that's blond... or is it brown? And the eyes that are blue? Or green? Or—dare I say!—turquoise? But Sam does know that he's 4'11", which seems... odd.

Anyway, that's it! If you thought we were going to get to the bottom of this parental mystery, HA! You better grow up and drink some coffee to wash down that Kool-Aid!

NEXT TIME: My characters like writing letters so much that they start writing to people who don't even exist.

Also, sorry if I've been slacking a little on the posting. (I know, MY REPUTATION IS RUINED.) I've been busy lately in my non-blog life, but I promise I'm not going anywhere. I'll try to keep posting at least once a week.

Guest author: Dear Diary

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 of—the French language!


• Swiss Family Robinson!


• Reading entirely too much!

This was her introductory letter:

Dear Sada,

I am 8 years old. My favorite foods are Pizza, Spaghetti, and Chinnese food. I have one brother and his name is Matt.

Yours Truly,
Jamie [Next to this she drew a heart with smiley face]

P.S. What is your birth stone? Mine is Emerald

The letter was accompanied by this lovely self-portrait, daringly drawn in profile:


The second letter is kinda about her parents' careers but mostly gives the low-down on all of the birthstones, so I'll spare you. Here's the third letter:

March 18, 1987

Dear Sada,

If we had one special day together we would go to Oz. We would meet all the characters of Oz. We would meet Ozma, the fairy princess of all Oz. She would make us fairy princesses of Oz.

Your friend,
Jamie

P.S. My dad knows your dad.

The following diary entries were also written in third grade, so try to imagine these words flowing from little Jamie's crayoned hand. You might also want to imagine Jamie curled up with a copy of Anne of Green Gables, because she exhibits, oh, just a slight tendency toward Anne Shirley–esque melodrama.

Oct. 3, 1986

Dear Diary,

I went to Lake Tahoe and saved about 30 crawdads life.

I love the picture on front of the cat!

What picture on the front of the cat, you ask? Oh, this one:


I'd say that cat looks less than pleased about being crammed preciously inside a desk cubby.

Well Mary might come over but I don't think she would come over if she had known "Luke" one of my brothers friend's were over

I still hope to see Aaron someday!

Love,
Jamie

Nov. 21, 1986


A Picture for a secret friend, My diary.

Jamie

Nov. 7, 1986

Dear Diary,

I told you I hoped see Aaron someday and I did! But I no care anymore!
I got a new boy! His name is Jon and he is 9 and in 4th grade. He has choclaty brown hair and he has a brother named Rashi. My friend Sarah loves him. He has dirt hair and is in 2nd grade. I love Jon! Bye!

Jamie

Man, the diary was getting Older Men with dessert for hair, and I was getting birthstones! By the way, I love thinking of a fourth grader as an older man.

Nov. 21, 1986

Dear Diary,

I love you! I will always cherish the moments we have shared. Sarah and I are blood sisters. In case you are wondering blood sisters are when you prick a part of you're body and you're friend does and you rub them together. Kate is 9 now. I went to her birthday party. I got her a special teddy bear. I had a tearful but wild parting. My exact words were "The time has come for us to part."

I will write soon.
I promise.

Jamie

I just Googled "tearful but wild parting"—because, seriously, did she come up with that on her own?—and Google suggested that instead I might try "tearful but wild partying." No mention of special teddy bears.

Nov. 24, 1986

Dear Diary,

We went to see some wonderful tap dancers. My favorite one was Baldy! The youngest tap dancer was 69 and the oldest was 75.

Bye, Bye

Love,
Jamie

I don't know where one can go to see geriatric tap dancers, but I would sure like to find out! Jamie?

Dec. 7, 1986

Dear Diary,

We taped Swiss Family Robinson. One of my favorite characters was Frances. He was always getting into trouble

I am getting dad probably a shirt.

I am making mom a beautiful gift of Glittery paper flowers.

Bye, Bye

Love,
Jamie

Dec. 12, 1986

Dear Diary,

My concert was last night and we sang: Kooka burra, Hey Ho Hey lo, Hannaka Song and x-mas song.

On the Hannaka song I had to dance. My face turned bright red.

And what's worse Jon did not clap.

Love,
Jamie

Stupid fourth grade chocolate head!

Dec. 16, 1986

Dear Diary,

Matt is writing a report about the tree.

I do not want him to feel bad but, everybody knows a tree is a plant.

Guess what!
We got our gifts under are x-mas tree.
Merry x-mas!

Bye, Bye
Love,
Great Me Myself,
Jamie

Jan. 28, 1987

Dear Diary,

It's 1987 now.
Happy late New Year
Sorry I have not written a letter to you sooner. We write in cursife now at school. Shall I write a sentence for you? Ok. I will......

i love you!
♥ PEACE

Pardon.
Wee wee Meshouir.
That's French!

Bye, Bye
jamie

April 1, 1987

Dear Diary,

Will you ever forgive me for not writing you a letter in so long? It's about a month and a day.

Diary, I hate you!
April Fools Day!

Every April 1 you go around playing practical jokes.

I know how to write most of the capital letters in cursive. You Are My Diary and i ♥ you

Bye, Bye
Jamie ♥

She really pulled one over on her inanimate secret friend, eh?

April 6, 1987

Dear Diary,

It started out as a A+ day but I changed it to C-.

I got in trouble at school and with my parents.

Bye, Bye
Jamie

This next one I had to scan in so you could get the full effect:


April 26, 1987

Dear Diary,

I am quite able to see now!

Guess what?
Jon got his hair spiked.
It looks sort of good sort of ugly.

I took a big × and ÷ test. I'm afraid I scored low.

Right now Matt is singing Jamie + Jon sitting in the tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
First comes love,
than comes marrige
than comes the baby in the baby

Jamie

She left out the "carriage," which makes it sound kind of like a "Babies Having Babies" episode on Maury Povich. But seeing as she's in third grade, I guess that's right on the money.

No date on this next one:

Dear Diary,

Have I ever told you the Karate Kid was a dream boy? No? He was the cutest boy I ever saw!

But now Mathew Brodrick ties with Ralph Machio, The Karate Kid. They are both very dreamy!

I with I had there autographs!
Maybe I can pretend.


Dream boys!

Bye, Bye,
Jamie

Nothing like the forged, misspelled autographs of your (neck-and-neck) dream boys! You guys, this kills me.

May 9, 1987

Dear Diary,

I'm so sleepy! I can hardly ceep my peepers open.

Night!
Jamie

June

Dear Diary,

Sorry did not write
dying!
I am dying

Goodbye
For the rest of my life.
I love you.

From
Jamie

June 6, 1987

Dear Diary,

That letter was a phony!
Don't believe it!

Jamie

It's just too easy to pull the wool over your diary's eyes, isn't it?

So Jamie and I never made it to Oz, but we did end up at the same middle school, where were lab partners two years in a row. We finally cemented our friendship by defiling an educational Archie comic book in 8th grade. Oh, the memories. Now we both live in Portland, so we can have tearful but wild partings on a regular basis.

Speaking of which, the time has come for us to part...

NEXT TIME: I run into some preteen problems—namely, braces.

Runaways, dogs, and crippled children—oh my!

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 #1
The assignment: A picture and a paragraph about my favorite character
Title: From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler
Author: E. L. Konigsburg
Type: Newbery Award

I think someday I'd like to have lunch with the Newbery Committee or something. I seriously still love this book:




For the insane few of you who have never read it, here's the back cover spiel:

When Claudia decided to run away, she planned very carefully. She would be gone just long enough to teach her parents a lesson in Claudia appreciation. And she would live in comfort—at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She invited her brother Jamie to go, too, mostly because he was a miser and would have money.

The two took up residence in the museum right on schedule. But once the fun of settling in was over, Claudia had two unexpected problems: she felt just the same, and she wanted to feel different; and she found a statue at the museum so beautiful she could not go home until she had discovered its maker, a question that baffled even the experts. The former owner of the statue was Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. And without her help Claudia might never have found a way to go home.

If you think the copywriter got a little dramatic at the end, well, let me assure you, they had nothing on 10-year-old me. But first things first: My favorite character was Claudia, obviously. (No offense to Jamie, but draw a picture of a BOY? It would have to be a cold day in hell.)



I seem to have been determined to draw every last one of Claudia's eyelashes.

Here's what I had to say about Claud:

Claudia is running away. She doesn't want to be running away but, running to somewhere. She picks the Art Museum. She runs away because she is treated unfairly. She is the oldest child and only girl in the family. When she and younger brother, Jamie, move in, they discover "Angel". Claudia's determination and Jamie's money lead them to Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler . . . . and the secret of Angel.

Despite the fact that I give zero explanation about the oh-so-mysterious "Angel," you can see that I was BORN to write juvenile marketing material. I think I may have missed my calling.

From the Mixed-Up Files is, in my opinion, the quintessential YA running away book, and woo boy, did I ever enjoy reading—and writing—about running away. (I mean, what could be cooler than living in the art museum? I ask you, WHAT?) In sixth grade, I actually plagiarized the bejesus out of this book in a story creatively titled "Running Away." You will totally get to read it once sixth grade rolls around.

Book Report #2
The assignment: A letter to the author
Book Report: Judge Benjamin: The Superdog Secret
Author: Judith Whitelock McInerney
Type: Animal Story
Pages: 140

Judith Whitelock McInerney wrote a whole slew of books about the redheaded O'Riley clan and their long-suffering Saint Bernard, Judge Benjamin (not to be confused with Judge Reinhold—man, there were way too many Judges in the '80s), who also happens to be the narrator. This was the only Judge Benjamin book that we owned, but it was also my favorite because it involved a mobile home. I was utterly fascinated with mobile homes after viewing a two-minute clip about them once on Sesame Street. I was all, "You can sit at a table and eat breakfast WHILE YOU'RE DRIVING? And play cards? And watch TV? WHILE YOU'RE DRIVING??? Sign me the fuck up!"

But back to the Saint Bernard:




The back of the book gives us this terse synopsis:

The O'Rileys are a big, happy family. There's Mr. & Mrs. O'Riley and their four children—Kathleen, Seth, Maura, and Annie. There's also Judge Benjamin, their 200-pound dog. One day Mr. O'Riley announces that they're all going on vacation in their new camper. All of them except Judge Benjamin, that is. But Annie has other ideas!

Yes, they somehow manage to hide a Saint Bernard in a mobile home. Don't ask. Here's what I had to say to ol' Judes about it:

Dear [left blank even though it CLEARLY states the author's name at the top of the page]

I think the Judge Benjamin books are great! I have read The Superdog Secret, The Superdog Surprise, The Superdog Rescue and the Superdog I forget!. I am writing this letter about The Superdog Secret. I think it is neat how you write it from Judge's point of view. I love the characters, too! Just like a real family: sometimes caring, fighting, sweet, firm, etc., but always loving. It was funny how the kids decided to hide Judge in the tiny tub in the trailer. How could he manage smelly socks on his nose and bras on his tail from Decatur to Canada? Poor Judge! But in the end he always comes through. Nothing is more important than his family!

Sincerely,
Sada

P.S. Keep Writing!

Yes, words of encouragement from a 10-year-old to a published author.

Book Report #3
The assignment: A diary for a week
Title: With Love From Karen
Author: Marie Killilea
Type: Non-fiction

I was a pretty strict fiction reader, but I made one critical exception: true stories about crippled children. Preferably written many decades earlier. I had a particular soft spot for blind children or—even better!—blind and deaf children. But Karen Killilea somehow managed to be the QUEEN of the crippled children, even though she still had all of her senses intact. For one thing, her book actually had a SEQUEL (reported on here; both books were written by her mom). And yeah, she had cerebral palsy, but she also had a Pollyanna-esque perkiness that made YOU wish that you had been born crippled just so you could learn to walk with crutches for the first time too! Also, the Killileas had about 78 million pets, and I was jealous because I had something that was maybe even WORSE than cerebral palsy: allergies.

Here's Karen with one of her 10,000 dogs:



The back cover copy hilariously reads:

For the thousands of people who personally wrote to ask, "What has happened to Karen since her story was published?" and for the millions whose hearts went out to this freckle-faced, pig-tailed little girl and wondered in silence about how she grew up, this book is a personal reply—written with tender appreciation, with love from Karen.

It was published in 1963, if that's any sort of excuse.

Anyway, my mom maintains that this book report is brilliant because I wrote it all in the decidedly sentimental style of Marie Killilea. I also used a different pen or pencil for each "diary entry," to give it that authentic feel:

Diary of Karen Killilea

Friday [written with pencil]:

I feel that I have made the right decision. No more will I be in the crutch's prison. Well, now that I have this diary "Mom Pom" gave me to keep up my good handwriting, I feel I should explain myself. I have cerebal palsy. Well time to eat dinner. Good-bye, dear diary!

With love,
from,
Karen

Saturday [written with pencil]:

Today we took Ocean Borne to a dog show. Ocean Borne and Peri are our Newfoundlands. Today, at the show, I had a surprise. Ed Doll was there! I remember when I sent him the telegram telling him that Ocean Borne went BOB (best of breed). He said WHO'S BOB? When I saw him we hugged and he said, "How's BOB?" So, I know he has not forgotten either. Soon, Gloria, Russ, Mary, and Evelyn will be home. I'M SO HAPPY.

But I miss Shanty and Rory. MUCH. VERY MUCH. OH WELL.

With Love,
From,
Karen

Sunday [written with pink pen!]:

Dear Diary,
How foolish I've been to not explain my spectacular family to you. There is "Mom Pom", Daddy, Gloria, Marie, Rory, and Kristen. And our animals! Shanty was my dog but, alas, he has passed away. Hmmmmmm. Now there is Ocean Borne, Peri, and Pierre. Our cats are many. One is Misty Morning. Another, Kristen's companion, is Etcetera, our darling Siamese with points! We also have 2 birds and more cats (of course). Glo and Russ (+ kids) lived in Florida and on Tuesday they are coming back.

GOD BLESS THEM!

With Love From,
Karen

P.S. We also have an alligator, Gigidinella, and a talking parrot, Gazebo

Monday [written with black pen]:

Dear Diary,
So much to do in so little time. Glo, Russ, Mary, and Evelyn will be here tomorrow "for keeps" says Glo. Let me tell you all about my important decision. I chose between riding in my wheelchair (FREEDOM) and the crutches (PAIN). Naturally I chose the wheelchair. I am free. Well, I still have to help prepare the surprise party for GLO AND RUSS! Excitement is in the air. I can smell it.

FREEDOM!

With Love From,
Karen

Tuesday [written with blue pen]:

Dear Diary,
Glo and Russ and Mary and Evelyn came home today. Evelyn is the most darling baby. Kristen loves her. (So does Etcetera.) And more animals! Glo presented me with a tank of the most beautiful tropical fish. Our menagerie grows! Rory came for a visit!!!!!!!!!! His girlfriend, Virginia McGuire, brought us a puppy, a beutiful Golden Retriever, who Virginia claimed she was called Shannon. (I guess Rory told her about Shanty.) Glo is back and they are looking for a house. Jean, our neighbor, said things were back to normal. Even Marie, her husband, Ronald, and son were there.

I AM SO HAPPY. I WISH SHANTY WERE HERE.

With all My Love Family + Friends From,
Karen

Wednesday [written with pink pen]:

Dear Diary,
Today, oh, today was a glorious day. We went to the beach. It was warm enough. Virginia does the most remarkable dives. Shannon joined our 3 dogs (2 Newfs, 1 Daschund) in a water/romp game of fetch-the-frisbee. What fun. Kristen is learning to hold her breath! Mary can swim!!!! It is nice to see us all together. I happily took note that Marie and Gloria are the same fantastic swimmers they used to be. Glo, Mare, Ginia (VIRGINIA), and myself raced, swimming, in the water. I had some tough competition. Later, Mommy told me we were all very impressive.

WHAT FUN I HAD TODAY I WILL REMEMBER FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

All My Love,
Karen

Thursday [written with pencil]:

Dear Diary,
Today Rory and Ginia went away. (AGAIN!!!!!) Glo and Russ have already found the perfect house. I suspect mommy was hunting for them when they were in Florida. Now they are getting a Labrador. We used to have one named Highland Lark (Lark for short). Mary wants to get a dog named "fishy". She is hilarious! Today was OK, I guess.

SO LONG, DEAR DIARY!

With Love from Karen

Wow. Two things:
1) I definitely read those books way too many times.
2) I kind of want to write everything à la Marie Killilea from now on. Ahem:

This trip down memory lane has been such glorious fun! How lucky I was to have such impressive authors to emulate and such remarkable books to plagiarize. And how foolish I've been not to write like the spectacular Killileas all along!

WHAT FUN I HAD WRITING THIS BLOG ENTRY I WILL REMEMBER FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. Well, time to eat dinner. Good-bye, my dear, darling readers!

With love,
from,
Sada

NEXT TIME: Plot treatments for some stories that never were, but definitely should have been (hi, The Bikini Summer?).

Dear Girls: Letters to the cast of Rags to Riches

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 feelings. I LOVED Rags to Riches. I loved it so much, I wanted to LIVE it. In fact, my friends and I had decided to put on a play based on "the movie" (we were campaigning our music teacher to produce it), in which we would portray our favorite characters. I was painstakingly transcribing the script from my VHS recording. If I didn't know what the characters were saying? I just made it up! The dialogue of the British butler, Clapper, was particularly troublesome and prone to errors. For example, "This here enormous mansion" became, in my script, "This ear-enormous mansion." (Maybe adding "ear" to words was some sort of British slang with which I was unfamiliar?)

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's take a second to discuss the amazing plotline of the show: A group of spunky orphans (really, is there any other kind?) is adopted by millionaire Nick Foley as a publicity stunt—but, inevitably, he is unable to resist their orphanly charms and ends up becoming a real father to them. Basically, it was Annie. Except instead of one female orphan, there were SIX (well, after the pilot, only five; one of them was written off the show—that is, reclaimed by her mother). Plus they were multi-ethnic and mostly teenaged. AND it took place in the 1960s, a time period infinitely cooler than the Depression. Like Annie, Rags to Riches was a musical—but instead of original songs, the writers just took popular songs from the '60s and changed the lyrics to suit the storyline, which was either laziness or PURE GENIUS:



Each episode featured maybe three songs sprinkled throughout and rendered in music video–esque fashion. It was basically crack for a nine-year-old girl, and I immediately decided to tape every episode. (Once the show was interrupted midway to broadcast the rescue of Baby Jessica from that godforsaken hole, and I was IRATE. She'd already been down there for two and a half days—couldn't they wait another half an hour until my show was over???)

My friends and I each selected a favorite character (they were not, under any circumstances, allowed to overlap) and developed our respective personas:

Rose: Age 17, somewhat serious orphan leader, had preposterously '80s hair for someone supposedly living in the '60s. Portrayed by my friend Jessica.

Diane: Age 16, the obligatory boy-crazy clothes horse. We had our eye on my sister's friend Sara (we needed a blond), but I'm not sure casting for this role was ever finalized.

Marva: Age 15, extremely business savvy and entrepreneurial for a 15-year-old. Portrayed by my friend Katie.

Nina (pilot only): Age 15, attempted to run off with her boyfriend's motorcycle gang... a bit of a mystery, as she was only in the pilot. Portrayed by my friend Maggie.

Patty: Age 13, tough, sporty (somewhat uncouth) tomboy with possible learning disabilities. Portrayed by my sister, Genie.

Mickey: Age 8, mildly irritating and played the saxophone. Portrayed by me.

I think it was because she was the closest to my age that Mickey was my favorite. (There's really no other explanation, as she had by far the least amount of screen time and character development.) I even briefly considered taking up the saxophone, but ruled it out as a hazard to my asthmatic lungs.

Many a recess was spent getting into character or discussing our upcoming production (we were undeterred by the boys who referred to it as Fags to Bitches). Eventually our music teacher let us down gently by telling us that due to copyright issues, the cost of putting on the play would be too burdensome for our elementary school. But we continued to dream...

After scouring the pages of BOP and Tiger Beat unsuccessfully for a place to send my Rags to Riches fan mail (most of my early celebrity fantasies focused on pen friendship), my wily mother called the local NBC affiliate and wrangled some sort of address from them. I can't remember whether any of my letters ever made it to Hollywood, but here are a couple I found that remained unsent:

April 21, 1987

Dear Tisha, Blanca, Kimiko, Bridget, and Heidi,

Do you like your work? It seems hard to memorize everything. I can't even memorize my songs for our concert. I've been writing the script. It's 20 pages and there's a line on the 21st page. It's very hard to write the script and Jessica wanted me to ask you if you could send us the script if you can. We let Jessica know about writing to you. At first we weren't going to, but, we did. We didn't want people to know because, then, everyone would write you and you couldn't write anyone back.

There's no way anyone else's mom would be as clever as mine. Also, I wasn't going to tell my own FRIEND about writing to them? Good lord, I was like some sort of Rags to Riches Nazi!

So, Jessica will be writing to you also. I really want to meet you. You're really cool. I haven't gotten my picture for you yet. Sorry, but, I will get it for you.

I'm sure they were DYING to see what I looked like.

Today was hot. I'm sweating.

And I'm sure they were dying to know that.

Just like yesterday. Yesterday I went to a baseball game. It started at 7:35 and ended at about 12:00! Late. The Indians Lost!!!! (They're not doing good.) My sister is driving me nuts and she's coming upstairs.

4-23-87
Why isn't there a show about Micky? Diane again. I was waiting. But, no. they do one about Diane. Please give her a show. Bigger parts! Please!

I seem to be under the impression that the actresses also WRITE the show. Mickey (I don't know why I was convinced that the female version of this name lacked the E) did eventually get her own plotline, but it involved Girl Scout cookies. Totally lame.

Is it about Diane? I'll have to see. In the T.V. guide it was about her. On T.V. it wasn't. And I thought Patty didn't like Bing Crosby.

Right here I am quibbling with the actresses about inconsistencies in the show: In one episode, Patty expresses a dislike for Bing Crosby; in a later episode, she's all excited about seeing him somewhere. This kind of crap didn't sit well with me even then.

We are also asking your permission to do a play on the movie.

Your pen pal (hopefully),
Sada

(P.S. Please, please, please write back.)

This next letter is actually TYPED:

August 30, 1987

Dear girls (I won't write all your names),

Christ, was I lazy!

I went on vacatation. It was a long drive, though. We went camping at the Great Escape Camping Resort. We went to the fun park we were camping behind. It was fun.

Please note: The fun park was fun. Ahh, vacatation.

I went on a lot of scary rides. In fact, I even went on a roller coaster called the steamin' deamon. It went upside-down 3 times. It was lots of fun. We also went to Niagara Falls. I got a real seahorse covered in gold. It was a necklace. It's really cool. I also saw my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandma, grandpa, and friends. On the first day we stayed at old friends houses. Ooops.

I have no idea what the "Ooops" is about.

Well, they had a cute boy, Brenden. He was nice, too. (some cute guys aren't)

Look how I lay it out for the girls! I am so fucking SAGE.

I don't think he liked me. (girlfriend-like) As a friend–yes.
Tisha–I saw you in Little Shop of Horrors.
Heidi–I saw you in your commercial. I didn't realize you were so short.

Hi, she's EIGHT. Of course she's short!

By the way–I slept in Brenden's room. So did he.

Am I trying to make myself look cool by implying that something sordid went down? Let me assure you, I was not and it did not.

I will draw you a picture of what my room looks like, myself, my house, Katie, my family, and a pencil.

Sincerely,

Sada

P.S. write back soon

Sadly, the drawing of the pencil was nowhere to be found. But at the bottom of the letter was the following typewritten artistry:


Oh my GOD.

NEXT TIME: We return to the literature with Friends Forever, a story whose opening scene features a character mistakenly going to school on a Saturday. Get ready for realism!