Leaving on a Jet Plane

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.)

3/14/89

Two Friends: The Story of Friendship

Once upon a summer day, two friends, Janet and Heather, were sitting in the grass.

"I don't want to move." Heather said stubbornly, crying

"I don't want you to either." said Janet, crying, too. "But you have to promise me we'll always be best friends, no matter what. If the end of the world comes, I'll still be there for you."

These five... er, six... words I swear to you. But awww, how sweet. If the end of the world comes, I'll totally be there for all of YOU GUYS! We'll hang out in my underground (or inner-tree) bunker and play MASH until we can play MASH no more. And maybe kiss some Chad Allen posters and choreograph a new routine to "I've Had the Time of My Life." We'll go out in a blaze of 1989 glory. If anyone can find nonperishable Cool Ranch Doritos, it is ON.

"I promise." said Heather.

"Here," said Janet, taking off her necklace. "I want you to have this." She handed it to Heather.

"Your shell necklace!" gasped Heather. "The one your mother gave you before she died. OH, I can't!"

It's nice how the girls are so helpful with the exposition! Also, if my mother were on her deathbed and bequeathed to me a SHELL NECKLACE, I might get rid of it too.

My mom died and all I got was this stupid shell necklace.

"Take it." said Janet.

"Here," said Heather, digging into her pocket. "I want you to have this."

"Your lucky stone! The one you found on the beach! Thank you!"

They both have special beach objects! You have goosebumps already, just admit it.

"Thank you!" cried Heather. And then she was gone.

In a puff of smoke? What happened? Did she just apparate? Is she moving to HOGWARTS?

7 years later, when the girls were 17, there was a plane crash. Only one girl was killed. Her name was Janet McCall. Heather cried for days after she heard. Janet had been coming to visit Heather. Heather had never worn the shell necklace, but now she took it out of it's case and put it on.

Like, just how ugly is that necklace? Seriously.

Two days after Janet was killed, there was a second plane crash. Only one person died. Her name was Heather Dobbins. She was going to her friend Janet McCall's funeral. So, then they were together again.

Woooo-oooooo-ooooooh! Wasn't it EERIE, with the exchange of oceanic items and the really implausible only-one-person-on-the-entire-plane-dying thing happening TWICE? You'll be up all night trying to make sense of it, I know.

So, what was the story of friendship? A few theories:

• Visiting your be-fri means risking your life. Even if she's already dead and you haven't seen her in seven years and you're just going to pay your respects to her family or whatever, you're pretty much taking your life into your hands.
  
• Wearing a fugly shell necklace might just cause your plane to crash. (That necklace is so cursed. I want a sequel.)
  
• If your friend moves away, forget her. You can give her your lucky stone, but you'll never see her alive again. But don't worry! You two can totally hang in the afterlife!
  

NEXT TIME: We'll finally be babysat by Lauren Lowsky.

Until then, since I know how much you like reading other peoples' diaries, you might want to check out this post on Jezebel. I'm not the only one who likes to embarrass myself on the Internets!

Par-tay!

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 of our gargantuan consumption of high-fructose corn syrup.)
• Attempt to stay up until the wee hours. (The high-fructose corn syrup again acting as our accomplice.)

And if you don't believe me, the following school journal entries will attest.

10-3-88

Sleepover

On Saturday, Katie and Jessica slept over at my house. We pigged out!

In fact, by sixth grade we would dub our sleepovers "Pig-Outs." The Sleepover Friends had nothing on us, let me tell you what. (Well, okay, they may have had a special dip, but whatever. Canned tuna and cream cheese? Bleck! I'll stick with the Little Caesar's pizza pizza, thank you very much.)

We ate Cool Ranch Doritos, M&M's, Skittles, E.L. fudge cookies, ice cream, and rootbeer floats (Not to mention the pizza we had for dinner)!

Just looking at this has given me bad breath.

And do you guys remember E.L. Fudge cookies? They were creepily Keebler elf–shaped.

What kind of elves bake cookies in a tree? Seriously.

We stayed up until 4 (except me, who fell asleep at 3:45 and woke up again at 4:03) playing Truth Or Dare, Who Am I?, watching "Hairspray", putting on make-up, dancing, listening to the radio, talking, and eating, of course.

Of course! Those rootbeer floats aren't going to drink themselves, you know!

We talked on the phone, too!

This probably means one of us called a boy we liked and asked him who he liked, all the while pretending the other two girls weren't standing by with their ears pressed to the receiver.

IT WAS FUN!

-SADA

P.S. We also acted stupid.

10/10/88

Jessica's party!

At Jessica's party we (me, Jess, Sarah H., Sarah M., Sara S., Casey, Georgia, Rachel, Sherron):

1) We waited for everyone to come

2) We played a game where Jess's mom brought in a tray (16 objects were on it) and we stared it it for 60 sec. then she took it away. We wrote down everything we remembered.

3) We ate dinner (PIZZA). My tooth became really loose.

As I'm sure you can tell, this party narrowly avoided becoming a "tradgedy."

4) We had dessert (rainbow angel food cake and chocolate marshmallow ice cream)

5) Jess opened her presents.

6) We watched HAIRSPRAY on her VCR.

If you check the dates on these entries, you'll note that we just watched Hairspray a week ago. We could not get enough of segregated dance shows in 1960s Baltimore!

7) We limboed. I cracked my hip.

"Tradgedy" almost struck once more! I would actually complain about the hip-cracking limbo incident for years to come and claim that I could never... limbo... again.

8) We took a queer picture.

9) MY MOM CAME TO PICK ME UP!

—Sada

2/27/89

Katie's PARTY
Happy Birthday, Katie

Katie's party was on Friday–Saturday. It was the best party! The people there were me, Katie (DUH!), Jessica, and Maggie. (Casey couldn't come, you know.) So first we ate. Pizza, then ice cream cake for dessert. Well, we were gonna have a séance with the OUIJA boards. (Me and Katie's) But she opened her presents. I bought her a little stuffed animal Orangutang and some dangly earrings.

So we didn't have the séance because Maggie didn't believe in the OUIJA boards.

I love how this implies that the rest of us DID believe in the OUIJA boards.

We had a ceremony. My name was BASTET. I was Nefertiti's (Jessica's) daughter. Katie was Isaida. Maggie was Tasmarina. We made up signs + countries.

I had read The Egypt Game about 8,572 times too many. Zilpha Keatley Snyder, I don't care that you're 81, you're still my girlfriend!

Then we started watching "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". It was boring so we watched "Psycho I." It was scary. Katie was cackling during the shower scene.

The reason I'm referring to Psycho as Psycho I is that the first film we watched in this "series" was Psycho III (Alfred Hitchcock is rolling over in his grave RIGHT NOW), viewed at a sleepover several months earlier.

Then we watched "Psycho II." They get scarier and grosser by the movie!

Grosser, certainly. (I'm pretty sure someone gets decapitated while ON THE TOILET in Psycho III.) But scarier? Pshaw.

We were so scared, we watched "Mary Poppins". That was funny because Maggie kept yelling, "Shut up! It's Mr. Banks! He's on T.V.!" then she pulled us around in our sleeping bags.

Maggie's love for Mr. Banks was a running joke for years. Apparently it never made any sense.

We went to sleep about 4:30 AM.

How sad is it that I could stay up later ate age 11 than I can at age 31? Pretty, pretty sad.

In the morning Maggie had to leave at 10:00 for orchestra. So me and Katie and Jessica played Hide-N-Seek. Katie's step-dad, Steve, seeked us. It was fun. Then my mom came! UGH!

-SADA

I now present to you...

Sada's List of the Top 3 Most Scandalicious Sleepover Movies*:

1. Real Genius. I'll admit, it was largely scandalous because we watched it when were tender young second graders, and it contained references to things like "penis stretchers" (oh my GAWD!) and "making it." Quite frankly, I think I still have a crush on Chris Knight and his amazing T-shirt collection, which—holy awesomeness!—can be purchased here! I'm about two seconds away from ordering a pair of bunny slippers.

You're so hot, I'll overlook the fact that you're actually Val Kilmer.

Sidenote: Have you guys ever noticed how much Mitch freakishly resembles Sarah Jessica Parker?

Right? They were obviously separated at birth.

2. The Exorcist. This one we watched in fourth grade and OH MY SWEET LORD. A girl roundabouts our age gets possessed by demonic forces, spins her head around like she's some sort of super creepy OWL or something, projectile vomits pretty much constantly, uses the C-WORD, and stabs herself in the girl parts with a crucifix??? I'm still not over it.

Could someone give Linda some Pepto to settle her stomach, please?

3. Psycho. For at least a month afterward, I made my mom sit in the bathroom with me while I showered so that no one could slip in and stab me to death. Enough said.

Ha ha! You can't kill me if my mom's here!

* I am not including any of the soft-core porn we watched on Skinemax during middle school. That's an entry for another time. Or, quite possibly, never.

NEXT TIME: We return to Friendship, and I take the term "character sketch" a bit too literally.

Tragedy... or Comedy?

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 be.

November 2, 1988

Joe Hill

This tragic story begins on November 1, 1988 at about 2:30 P.M. when Sada, 11, got off the bus from Fairfax Elementary and walked to her house at 1888 So. Compton.

Sada realized no one was home but Joe, the handy man.

Just to clarify, Joe the Handyman was not by any means a permanent fixture in our household. He was an acquaintance of my dad's who was doing some sort of work in our kitchen, I don't remember what. Not really important for our purposes...

There were no cars there and the two doors (front and back) were locked but, she proceeded in ringing the two doorbells. Of course, Joe did not answer, which was what she expected as he did not live there. So she continued to buzz the bells which also consisted of playing "Mary had a little lamb" and "Heaven is a place on Earth" on them. She also claims to have banged on the gutter and thrown balls at windows.

Ooookay, so I thought Joe was in the house... Was I trying to ANNOY him into answering the door?

This went on until 3:00 P.M., when her father, Charles, 39, arrived home with her sister, Imogene, 9, her brother, William, 4, and her mother's baby-sitting charges, Joshua, 5, and Lawrence, 5. Apparently, the handy man, Joe Hill, while cutting a piece of wood with an electric saw tore off an inch of one of his fingers and cut three others.

Halle, 36, rushed Joe to Saint Luke's emergency room.

Charles later had to go home, find the finger, and bring it to the hospital.

I left out that it took my dad for-freakin'-evs for locate the finger—in fact, he initially overlooked it because he thought it was AN OLD PIECE OF POTATO. Unfortunately, that is eternally how I imagine severed phalanges to look.

Joe Hill's finger cannot be sewn back on.

But what's the real tragedy here? The fact that Joe lost part of his finger—or that I was left alone outside for half an hour and forced to amuse myself by playing Belinda Carlisle songs on the doorbell? I think we all know the answer to THAT.

But wait! There's so much more tragedy to come! It can happen anywhere, at any time. Even while you're waiting for the school bus.

12/88

Bus Stop Tradgedy

This morning, while waiting for the bus, somehow, a gift got into the street and was run over. Glass was splattered all over the street. Someone at our stop got the box out. It was a beautiful glass pitcher. We opened the card to "Mrs. Fentelli." It was from the Rennerts and Myers. So some of us volunteered to call them.

Because you know what a busted-ass pitcher in the middle of the street is? A mystery just waiting to be solved! And you best believe we were going to get to the bottom of it.

I am looking up "Fentelli" in the phone book. Genie [my sister, who was clearly not going to make it as a P.I.] never looked up Myers or called. I looked up "Fentelli" (it wasn't in there) and "Myers" (a whole "Myers" page, there is!), but I didn't make any calls.

Sherron had better luck. She looked up "Rennert" (only 3), found the number (so did I, actually), and called. She told the man (Sief) and asked if she should leave it at the bus stop for him.

Can you imagine how this phone call went down? "Well hi there, Mr. Rennert! I'm in fifth grade, and my friends and I found a smashed-up glass pitcher that you gave to someone. Uh, maybe. Anyway, you will OBVIOUSLY want this back. Should we leave its shattered remains at our bus stop for you?"

He said he didn't like the woman anyway; his wife wanted to send her the gift. He had no use for it. Sherron threw it out!

THE END

Oh my God, you guys! I can't believe he didn't want the beautiful broken pitcher back! DOUBLE the "tradgedy"!

But hang on, because the tragedy's about to get physical.

10/17/88

Golfing

I was in a golf cart crash. I went golfing with my dad. I was in a cart with his friend, Rob. We hit a tree.

Here's what I neglected to mention: I was the one driving.

The golf cart was unharmed, but my pride—and head—were wounded.
[p.s. I stole this image from Time. Don't sue me, please!]

My head hit the steering wheel. I fell out of the cart. I just lay there for a minute. I got up then, though.

For a second, all I saw was white, then I noticed the throbbing pain in my head. It seemed like my nose was bleeding, but it wasn't.

I think I may have been briefly knocked unconscious. That's some stellar first-time driving!

I didn't cry. Not until it was over and my dad drove up. I said, "Can I ride with you?" and started to cry.

So now I hurt:


* That already hurt.

Truthfully? I am still not a very good driver. However, I have never again driven headfirst into a tree. So at least I have that going for me.

10/88

Last Night

!!!UGH!!! Last night was bad. I guess you could call it a "bad night" like we say "bad day". Well, listen:

First, I had too much homework. (HINT, HINT).

Yes, it actually says that.

Then, since I did, my dad almost made me miss watching my T.V. shows. That was bad, since, they were SEASON PREMIERES. Finally, I agreed to do the dishes (My week, naturally) during commercials and take a bath after my shows. (9:00)

You guys, I was serious about my TV. At some point I even drafted a weekly schedule of all of the shows I liked to watch. You know, like ALF and The Hogan Family. How could I miss a single riveting episode?!

Must-see TV!

Well, I ran the bath-water (it could have been warmer) and got in.

I am sooo reaching.

Then it got bad. While washing my face, I got soap in my eye. I easily got it out. Well, I washed my hair and got shampoo in my eye, which really stung. I got out and it took me a while to get the shampoo out.

I tried to find an outfit for today (no skirts). I played with BABY [my guinea pig] and suddenly got a cramp in my leg. I went downstairs to take my medicine (I'd forgotten) and tell dad. Finally, I fell asleep.

It's amazing I lived to tell the tale, truly.

NEXT TIME: Whooo boy, after all the leg cramps and shampoo in the eye—uh, I mean, terribly horrible tragedy—you know what we need? A party! Or several parties, preferably involving Cool Ranch Doritos and multiple viewings of Hairspray.

Wait, we're getting remarried? F*¢k!

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, it all started when my Aunt Cindy called. She said they were planning a surprise 40th anniversary party for my grandparents and would we come? SURE!!!

Once we got there, it turned out no one was exaaaaactly sure what year my grandparents had gotten married, so it was actually their 39th anniversary. Or maybe their 41st. In any case, not actually their 40th. Surprise!

2/15/89

SURPRISE WEEKEND continued..... So it's a 4(½) hour drive to Lockport, New York. So we got there OK. (Well, truthfully, me and Genie did have a fight). So when we got there we swam (everybody but mom).

The best part of any trip we went on? Swimming in the hotel pool.

Then we got dressed. I wore my new sweater dress.

FRACK, I wish I had in my possession a picture of the sweater dress. It was cream-colored, beaded, and had shoulder pads that made me look like a linebacker. In other words, the height of fashion!

So we got to the place where the party was.

The VFW Hall, I'm pretty sure, if that helps you set the scene.

My grandparents had just been dropped off by the limo.

Nothing's too good for their 40th anniversary! Or 39th. Whatever.

We saw my step-cousin, Amy. Genie didn't want to see her. I wasn't sure. Amy was really nice.

Amy's dad had recently married my aunt, and I think we had only met her once before. This time, she managed to pass muster.

We were talking and beating up on my other cousins, Stephen and Michael (the twins) and Jimmy. I hate them.

Because they're BOYS! Ew!

Amy told us Gramma and Grampa were going to be remarried - only they didn't know it.

Because what's more romantic than being coerced into renewing your vows? WHAT, I ask you!

So the time came to get remarried. They made faces. Grampa started swearing. It was funny!

Awwww!

At the end we threw confetti on them. Then Jimmy threw confetti at us! So we threw it back at him. It was all in my hair! Steven helped my hair, so I helped his. Then we threw some on my cousin, Jonah and his girlfriend, Rhonda. Jimmy did it too - while they were kissing! GROSS!

Jonah was in high school at the time and fairly metal. I'm sure he was THRILLED.

Then we ate. Did I say there was a deejay with his sound system? He said to call him Dr. Rock. (HA!) So we picked out songs for him (Dr. Rock (HA!)) to play. He said he wouldn't. The old people started dancing.

They were probably, like, 31.

Me and Amy gagged ourselves when "Lady in Red" came on.

I HATED "Lady in Red." Actually, I'm still not much of a fan, but I will grant you that the song is about 8 hundred million times sweeter than my grandparents' anniversary.

We had Dr. Rock [HA!] ask Jonah and Rhonda to dance! They didn't. After awhile the old people stopped dancing. Dr. Rock started to play our songs! I danced. Amy even danced with Jimmy! It was fun. We had Dr. Rock dedicate a song to Jonah and Rhonda. Then we had him dedicate "Nasty" to Amy.

That just seems wrong somehow.

My dad said it was time to go after two more songs. Two more songs were over. Ericka, Jonah's sister, just told us Jonah and Rhonda would dance to "Welcome to the Jungle." So we had Dr. Rock dedicate it to them. They didn't dance. They were EMBARASSED. But we did.

Most of my Valentine's Day plans seem to have involved embarrassing my cousins. Or beating up on them. Or dousing them with confetti.

We left. We slept. We swam. We drove. We pushed the car because it didn't work right. We had just turned onto our street when I choked on my rootbeer. I barfed twice into my hands because I couldn't breathe. Then I barfed all over.

THE END

And on that note, happy Valentine's Day everyone!

As a romantic bonus, I'm, uh, "pleased" to report that someone found this blog by Googling "make out with my feet." Seriously, you guys. I'm kind of at a loss.

NEXT TIME: Guest author Heraa's wily third grade thief makes MacGyver look like a freaking chump. Yeah, you heard me, Richard Dean Anderson.

New Year's Resolutions

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.

1/11/89

New 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 the "Really Rosie" play.
#8: To take the baby-sitting class.
#9: To make improvements with the "school in the basement"
#10: To redecorate my room.

P.S. I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT "REALLY ROSIE" TOMORROW. IT'S FUN!!!

Did I effectively, uh, resolve these? Let's take it resolution by resolution and find out.

#1: To move into the Scarborough house.

My sister and I desperately wanted to move so that we could attend the same middle school as the majority of our friends. The amazing part is that our parents went for it! I particularly wanted to move into the Scarborough house because it meant I would be living just down the street from the love of my elementary school life, Sig. The hitch was that the current owners of the house were recluses and maybe even certifiably insane. However, after months upon months of negotiations (seriously, it took well over six months), we did end up getting the house.

Resolution #1: ACHIEVED! With minimal effort on my part.

#2: To spend more time with Baby, my guinea pig.

Would you care to hear a bit about Baby? I can neither confirm nor deny whether she was named after Jennifer Grey's character in Dirty Dancing. Little did we know, she was pregnant when we brought her home from the pet store—so maybe her name should have been Penny. She ended up having a three-pig litter, and we kept two of her babies, Peachy and Rosie (who was definitely named after Really Rosie; see Resolution #7).

Have you ever seen baby guinea pigs? Unlike baby rabbits, which look like squirmy hairless rats (and which we had more than our fair share of—it turned out we did NOT have two female rabbits after all), baby guinea pigs are amazingly cute! And they lived in my room! So I could play with them whenever I wanted! Well, at first I could. About a week after the babies were born, someone had to stick her big nose in.

9*28*88
MOM

My Mom Is Stupid!

She has resumed full responsibility of the babies. Of course it's "not to make us mad" but she has.

We cannot pick them up without her supervising. "We aren't responsible" she says.

UGH!

She was even going to take my guinea pig (+ babies, of course) out of my room.

SHE MAKES ME SICK!

Hi, mom! There are loads of entries about the baby guinea pigs (two of them suffered through an allergen-induced bout of baldness at one point, and there was serious sibling rivalry between Rosie and Peachy), but there's also this:

11-29-88
Allergies

I am allergic to dogs, cats, mayonaise, penicillan, raw eggs, and
GUINEA PIGS!

[Please note: That list is WAY longer now. And no, avoiding raw eggs hasn't really been a problem.]

You can see that I made the New Year's resolution after this shocking allergy revelation, but seriously? How much time can you spend with something that gives you hives? It's too bad, because Baby was definitely the sweetest of all of our many pets. Although I realize that's not saying much.

Resolution #2: Achoo! Er, nope.

#3: To tame Bun-bun, my rabbit.

Guess what else I'm allergic to? That's right, rabbits. But we didn't know that because our rabbits rarely let us come within five feet of them. Those creatures outright loathed us.

I'm reverting to fourth grade to bring you this gem of a journal entry about Bun-bun:

1-25-88

I have a pet rabbit named Bun-bun. Sometimes she is sweet as honey and other times she's mad as a wet hen. [I'd say it was much more frequently the latter.] Bun-bun has been through a lot with her daughter, Runt, who was killed by a dog last year. I know that Bun-bun misses her, probably.

See, it wasn't that Bun-bun was pure evil, it's just that she was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

Bun-bun is very special to me. She almost died with Runt because they were in the same cage. Bun-bun was found next door. I was so glad that Bun-bun was still alive! Once my sister said that her rabbit was her life. [!!!] I don't know if Bun-bun is that much to me or not.

Usually when a friend comes over we go in the basement to see the bunnies. We talk to Bun-bun, try to pet her [emphasis on the "try"], give her food, and try to get her out of her cage. Sometimes I get mad at her because she knocks a bowl over. Sometimes I laugh because she acts silly. Bun-bun is important to me.

And here's a quick description of our rabbits from the fifth grade journal:

Bun [drawing of rabbit head] Bun: is my rabbit. She's boring. She doesn't let me hold her or pet her. But I won't give her up!

Cottontail [the o's are drawn as fuzzy bunny tails]: is Genie's bunny. He is like Bun-Bun, except sometimes you can pick him up. Though, he doesn't like it.

The fact that I felt I needed to "tame" a domesticated rabbit should speak volumes. Before we moved, we gave the bunnies to some friends of the family who lived in rural Ohio. Apparently Bun-bun was not my life, and I could give her up after all.

Resolution #3: Failed miserably.

#4: To get a real baby-sitting job.

I was 11, and my name is neither Mallory Pike nor Jessi Ramsey.

Resolution #4: Not this year! Thanks for nothing, Ann M. Martin.

#5: To pass my ice-skating class.

According to my journal, I did pass, but I should have flunked. I also hated my ice-skating teacher, Sue, and my woeful inability to execute a "mohawk."

Those creepy kite/stick people are achieving what I never could. And it looks like they're doing it on a tightrope! Show-offs.

Resolution #5: Technically achieved. Way to go! Though I'm pretty sure I did not pass the next class thanks to those accursed mohawks.

#6: To finish my 3 stories I started.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Hahahahahaha. Ha ha. Haaaaaaa.

Resolution #6: No way in hell.

#7: To put on the "Really Rosie" play.

I don't know if you've seen Really Rosie, but it is a musical revolving around a 10-year-old animated Brooklynite with an overactive imagination, a very high opinion of herself (sample lyric: "I can tap across the the Tappan Zee / Hey, can't you see? / I'm terrific at everything!"), and the voice of Carole King. In other words, TOTALLY AWESOME.

1/12/89
Really Rosie

"Really Rosie" is actually a movie. My mom rented it [...if by "rented" you mean "borrowed from the library"]. Maurice Sendak made it. The characters are: Rosie, Johnny, Alligator, Pierre, Chicken Soup, and a girl (we) named Jennifer. We wrote [ahem, transcribed] a script and the songs. It is going to be a play. The school in the basement's students [aka my four-year-old brother and his friends] can put it on for their parents.

THE CAST:
Rosie – Sada
Jennifer – Genie
Pierre – Josh
Johnny – Will
Alligator – Luke
Chicken Soup – "Molly" ("Molly" is a doll!)

Molly was a very large doll with a very unfortunate haircut given to her by her previous owners. My dad rescued her at a garage sale.

I was the director and I also gave myself the juiciest role. Josh, as Pierre, had only one line, repeated over and over: "I don't care."

THE SONGS:
#1: Really Rosie
#2: One Was Johnny
#3: Alligators All Around
#4: Pierre
#5: Such An Ordinary Day
#6: Chicken Soup With Rice

– Really Sada

Yes, it "really" says that. Little did I know, HarperTrophy had published a book version of Really Rosie, which would have been very, very handy to have back in 1989. For instance, turns out Jennifer's name is actually Kathy! Who knew?


We definitely slaved away in rehearsals, but our cast of four- and five-year-olds were not really committed to the full-scale production. Molly was a trooper, though.

I just asked my brother if he could remember whether we ever performed this (he could not), and this is what he had to say about Really Rosie: "Yeah, I didn't like that."

Resolution #7: Not even under duress.

#8: To take the baby-sitting class.

The baby-sitting class was offered by the Red Cross, and I believed it would help me to attain Resolution #4. My friend Jessica and I took this class together, and although I didn't snag a proper baby-sitting job for several more years, the baby-saving lessons did help spark a subplot in my (forthcoming) book Quintuple Trouble.

Resolution #8: Achieved with unexpectedly awesome side effects!

#9: To make improvements with the "school in the basement"

My sister and I were really into forcing my brother and his friends to be "students" in the fake school we held in our dungeon basement. Unfortunately, we lost most of our students after our move.

Resolution #9: Vastly unimproved.

#10: To redecorate my room.

Well, I moved in April of 1989, so I acquired an entirely new room! How's that for redecorating?

Resolution #10: Achieved and then some!

Well, what do you guys think? Four out of ten ain't bad. In fact, I think that might be a Meatloaf song. And at least I got to redecorate my room.

NEXT TIME: The guest authors are back! The first installment in Deathycat's Dear Sister trilogy features murder, sibling rivalry, and even more murder.

Happy New Year, everyone! Thanks so much for reading my little blog this year! I resolve to bring you even more embarrassment in '09.

Chrismukkah

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 to a Not-So-Secret Maccabee.

[Note: I'm breaking my own rules here by including journal entries from way back in fourth grade too, but I think you'll thank me once you're knee-deep in the late '80s toy nostalgia and crazy Christmas injury drama.]

11-19-87
Journal Topic: A tradition I enjoy

I like going to my grandmother's house for Chanukkah. It's fun. My grandma [gives] everyone a present. She tells us on her invitations who we are to give a gift to. My aunt and uncle give me a present, too.

When we eat there are big tables for all of the people. My grandma makes potato pancakes. Potato pancakes are just delicuous. She makes jello, too. I get stuffed.

Potato pancakes are delicuous!

We play board games. No one knows how to do the draydel, except maybe Joel. Sometimes we play hide-and-seek. Other times, Sammy chases us. Genie and I play with Courtney and sometimes her little sister, Laura.

I'm going to see Sammy next week, and I hope he doesn't chase me.

Then we have to go home. Everyone wants to stay and keep playing, the kids anyway. We have to go because gram and gramp need sleep and time to pick up wrapping paper.

Damn wrapping paper!

12/18/87
Journal Topic: Free Choice

On Hanukkah I got Mimi, the 'Hot Looks' doll I wanted. Mimi is a blond. Her hair is long and curly. She has blue eyes. She even has make-up on! She has 2 outfits you can mix-and-match with.

Had I joined the Hot Looks marketing team or something? Yet I neglected to mention the following very important facts: Mimi is a model, from France, and exclusively wears clothing that is either shiny or lacy.


What is going on in the outfit farthest to the left? Mimi looks like she swiped a pair of Muhammad Ali's fight trunks. And then paired it with a sweat band. And leopard print. And lace! Dear God!

You can find more Hot Looks photos than you ever needed to see here.

The day after Christmas my favorite far-away-living cousin, Bonnie, is coming for a visit. Bonnie likes unicorns, so we bought her some. Jimmy [Bonnie's brother] is coming, too. I forget what we bought him. We might go to Seaworld with them.

Bonnie was in high school and she had a unicorn collection. Win! Also, yes, there used to be a SeaWorld in Aurora, OH. And no, it is nowhere near any sort of sea. If you think a trip there in the dead of the Cleveland winter sounds like a recipe for frostbite, you're much smarter than anyone in my family.

On the 28th my grandma is taking my sister and me to the movie "Three Men and a Baby". I hear it's really good. I'm looking forward to it. We were going to see it on the 21st but there was a change of plans.

My grandma told me that she heard the baby liked Tom Selleck the best, and I've had a soft spot for him ever since.

1-4-88
Journal Topic: Over the holiday

On Christmas my dad dropped a razor blade on my brother's foot. He was cutting the string off of some doll clothes for my sister. The razor blade slipped and my brother was right under him. He's okay now.

Utility knives, mmm, maybe not the best Christmas gifts. My parents probably should have taken my brother in for stitches, but they didn't want to ruin the holiday. He was 3½ at the time and he cried and cried and cried and told everyone, "I don't ever want to have Christmas again!" Even after we let him have TWO hot chocolates.

I had a good holiday. I already wrote all my thank-you letters one night when I couldn't fall asleep. I wrote a whole lot of thank-you letters. I'm glad they're done.

My cousins, Bonnie and Jimmy came for a visit. Bonnie hasn't seen our house. We had her put blue lip-stick on.

My sister and I loved the shit out of that lipstick! I think it was leftover from one of our "punk rock" costumes.

We also went to Sea World with them my toes froze. My dad, my brother, Aunt Cindy, Bonnie, and I went to see the penguins when everyone else went ice-skating. We had fun.

"My toes froze" does not come remotely close to conveying how cold it was that day. So. Miserably. Cold.

Fifth grade's holidays were less bloody and more gifty:

9/19/98
ZAGGY TALES

We, meaning my sister and I, are writing a story called Zaggy Tales. It's about my grandmother, Maxine. She used to call herself Magazine. She was nicknamed ZAGGY.

My sister, Genie, and I are making this book, containing 6 stories. We are going to give it to my gramma for Hanukkah.

It's going to take a long time to finish ZAGGY TALES!

We have to:
Write the rough draft
Find a cover
Revise
Type final draft
Get photographs
Draw pictures
Bind book

I love how serious I was. Revisions? BINDING?! I'm pretty sure we just stuck it into a folder with brads.

12/9/88
Accomplished

We have finished ZAGGY TALES. It is typed, pictures glued, and bound. I can't wait till grandma sees it tonite at the Chanuka party

'BYE
SADA

I think I have a copy of Zaggy Tales back in Cleveland, where I happen to be heading next week. Let me know if you're interested in hearing Zaggy's actual tales. If I remember correctly, they involve Shirley Temple, fireplace implements, and general brattiness.

12/12/88
Hanukkah Party

At the Hanukkah Party I got a 'P'Jammer' which is an alarm clock and a radio with head phones, a Sylvanian family, and something else. Will didn't come because he was sick.

My poor little brother, screwed two holiday seasons in a row!

But let's take a look at those presents, shall we?


The P'Jammer. So p'astel. I think it matches the Hot Looks doll! And of course my Sylvanian family, the Wildwoods:


I had a rabbit collection. I know, I know, it's not nearly as cool as a unicorn collection.

The Sylvanian families had marketing material to rival the Hot Looks dolls. Like, check this out (not written by me, but by actual writing professionals):

Herb Wildwood loves to throw parties. He doesn't need a reason like someone's birthday or anniversary to invite all his family and friends around for a bit of a do!

Ginger Wildwood is a great hostess, famous for her legendary party food and especially for her spicy carrot and lettuce cake.

Rusty Wildwood is very, very musical. He can play most instruments well, but likes the trumpet and electric guitar best because they're loud and brash.

Hollie Wildwood is like her father and just loves parties, her favourite occasions being Christmas and New Year.

What. the. hell. Because all children dream of owning a party-planning rabbit named Herb?

12/16/88
!Christmas IS Coming!

So we got a Christmas [tree], wrapped Christmas presents (I've bought all mine already) and do Christmas-like things. EXAMPLE: We took out our Santa who plays songs, dings a bell, and is too loud*. We also put up our stocking. CHRISTMAS IS FUN!

*He is battery operated and there is no volume to use

I can't believe I found a picture of him! Keep in mind, however, that no picture can possibly capture his stilted shuffle or gratingly slurred version of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town." He was a little creepy. And we loved him desperately.

1/9/89
Winter Break

I got these for Christmas:

An Indians jacket, a nightshirt, a robe, a pair of slippers, a book-holder, a bookmark, a curio house, a camera, film, and some stuff in my stocking. Best of all, I got a OUIJA (wee-gee) BOARD! I got a stuffed monkey (TARZAN) too.

Check out that jacket:

Stylin'! My dad and sister had the same one so when we went out together, we were like triplets. Really, really cool triplets. And one of us had a beard.

The Ouija board, however, was the gift that kept on giving... giving really inaccurate predictions, that is. One time in ninth grade the "spirit" even claimed to be Michael Landon, but I wasn't buying it.


Over Winter Break, I:
Saw Twins. (It was stupid. There was no plot.)
Saw DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS (It was good).
Sled down our stairs.
CLEANED (Yech!)
Started writing 3 good stories, and other things I don't remember.

I've deduced that those "good stories" were The Sabrina Story, In the History of the World (coming up next!), and My Diary (coming in the new year, I swear).

So happy holidays, everyone! Though I'm not officially celebrating Hanukkah this year, I do plan on eating bagels and going to the movies on Christmas. Both of my halves are psyched!

NEXT TIME: Christmas comes to Friendship, and it is surprisingly unobnoxious.

P*R*E*T*E*E*N

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*N

All 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, 11, and 12. This is a book about real life and what goes on with kids these days.

Was this going to be nonfiction? Whoa! Like What's Happening To Me–style nonfiction (but please, if there's a God, with less nudity)? Or something grittier, like a compilation of anonymous vignettes that bring the reader face to face with the harrowing tween reality? Or are we talking interviews with my friends complaining about how they're not allowed to watch MTV?

Couldn't say. And what were all these problems I was yammering on about? Well, other than the fear of being bitten by my younger sister, there was one issue that was weighing rather heavily on me at the end of fourth grade.

5/18/88

Journal Topic: Free Choice

I hate braces!!!!! OK, not only are they "UGLY", they're very uncomfortable, too! They scratch and cut the inside of my mouth up! GROSS! I have disgusting white marks on the side of my mouth from them! I hate braces!!!!!!!!!!

6/2/88
Journal Topic: A time in my life I'll never forget

A time in my life I'll never forget is when I got these dumb braces! I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. They're dumb, dumb, dumb. They hurt, B-A-D, bad. My gums are sore. My teeth ache. I can't chew. I brush too much. [???] Why can't my teeth stay the way they are?

Braces, braces, they're so dumb.
So many things you cannot eat.
The orthodontist says "Don't suck your thumb!"
[Or in my case, my my index and middle finger]
You want to eat something sweet,
But, no, you'll get a cavity!

Cavities! When my mom got her braces off she had 32 cavities because she didn't brush right. [Okay, that probably explains the excessive brushing I mentioned earlier.] I really don't want 32 or more holes in my teeth! GROSS! I HATE BRACES!!!!!

Oh, the woe, you guys, the POTENTIAL-CAVITY WOE. This definitely could have filled a book.

NEXT TIME: Problems of a more hormonal nature, as my diary details Year One of a crush that eventually spanned three years. Wow. That's longer than most of my adult relationships.

Also, I'm heading out of town for an extra long weekend, so you may not be able to read my diary until the end of next week. I know, I'm sure you're all chomping at the bit. In the meantime, you should check out this story that reader Val posted on her blog about Gladys Kanger, a seventh grader with a senior citizen's name who is vigilantly "ready for action"—but ew, not in a lavender heels, fur coat, and no pants kind of way, you perv. She's just on constant alert for danger. Well, mainly the danger of falling over guard rails, which I always thought were in place for the express purpose of preventing you from falling over things, but Gladys Kanger has totally proven me wrong.

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.

S.E. Hinton, eat your heart out

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 also wire it with electricity like they were the freaking rats of NIMH. I'm sure Dell Yearling would have been all over it!

4/15/88
Journal topic: "Something about myself"

Tawana [our neighbor, who was in middle school at this point] came over yesterday and said I better be an author or she'd kill me. On the phone she was telling someone that I write books and all that. Then she asked me to help her write a poem. She's crazy.

The story I'm working on now seems like it'll never be finished. If my mom and I can find a publisher who does kid's stories, we might send them some of mine.

"A publisher who does kids' stories." I think that's some sort of mythical creature.

I like to draw, too. If I get a book published, I'll do the pictures also. I drew a picture of my friend, Caitlin. It came out good. One the other hand, the picture of Courtney was terrible........... I'll just keep trying.

We must have had to share these journal entries with a classmate and then report back because at the bottom it says:

Ché likes to work with her hands. She wants to be an olympic skater and win 1,000 gold medals or be an artist.

A thousand gold medals? Looks like I wasn't the only one with slightly unrealistic career goals.

4/18/88 Journal topic: "Careers"

I want to be an author and an artist. I like to draw and write. People like my stories. I helped my friend write a poem for homework. Her teacher thought she copied it out of a book. Ha!

Nope, she just had a fourth grader write it for her. That's not cheating, right?

I like to work with kids. My mom says I'm good with little kids. We have a pre-school in our basement. My brother and his friends love it! We help them count, learn the alphabet, paint, sing, and lots more!

This was an unofficial preschool run by my sister and me; we pretty much forced my brother and his friends to attend.

There really isn't a possible way to combine the two that I can think of. Then again, there's no reason why I can't do both. Teach and then draw and write in my spare time. Well, I'll figure something out!

I hate to break it to you, fourth-grade me, but the "writing in my spare time" thing has never worked out that well for me. Unless this blog counts! And I'm not a teacher, but I have had a bizarre combination of publishing and childcare jobs over the years (fortunately leaning more toward the publishing end as of late).

But my journal was not just about expounding upon my literary prowess. It was also a good chance to do some writing exercises during school hours. Like character sketches... of inanimate, hot pink objects.

11/17/87
No journal topic listed, so God only knows how I came up with this brilliance

Hi! I'm Chrissy, a hot pink kite. Mariam got me for her birthday last month. She was so exited that I couldn't believe it. [Me neither—it's a KITE, for God's sake!] I thought, oh it's just one of those kids my parents told me about.

At least once a week [what kind of windy-ass city do they live in?] Mariam takes me to the park where I float and twist on a string. Not that it's bad because I really do like it. I think soaring in the sky is really very peaceful. If I don't get stuck in a tree I enjoy it very much.

When your up there in the sky the view is great. No matter which way Mariam takes me, I always turn around to look at the park. The trees with their yellow, red, and orange leaves are so beautiful. There is a small stream that glistens in the sun. The cool, crisp air all around me.... Oh, Mariam is pulling me down. 'Bye.

But if the musings of Chrissy the Hot Pink Kite aren't ground-breaking enough for you, I also tried to branch out into other genres...

3/4/88
Journal topic: "An adventure"

The whole language arts class was going on a field trip in the mountains. A weekend trip but, there was a girls' side and a boys' side. [There will be no funny business on this field trip!] When we got back we would write about it in our journals.

"The teacher fell in this hole!" someone yelled. A few people cheered. "No! Really she did. With all the food too." someone else agreed. Then a few people tried to push Tyniesha some other people into a crack. We aren't gonna make it, I thought.

Tyniesha was actually a friend of mine, but I guess we weren't getting along that day. Sorry, Ty!

The minutes seemed like hours now. Some boys started playing football. Some girls rolled their eyes. "We hafta get her out of there." someone announced. "How?" asked some kids. "Do we have any rope?" "She's got it down there! So, no, we don't." "I have an idea. Gimme that football." They threw the football down. Mrs. Brennan tied the rope around it and threw it back up. We all helped her up. "Can we go home?" someone asked.

Erm, that was more like "problem solving" than "adventure." Let's try this again.

12/4/87
Journal topic: "Space travel"

The people on my spaceship are running around like wild because of one little mal-function. Even my best member of the crew refuses to get even the slightest bit close to that area. I don't know what has come over everyone. They don't run around, busy at work, anymore. Instead they just sit around, white. They barely speak!

I've had enough of this. I am the captain and I can do what I want. I get on the radio and to the scientist back on earth. I tell him our problem and he says it's natural for my crew to act like that. I tell him I don't like natural. We talk for about two hours until we finally have our problem solved.

I tell the crew just what to do. I am surprised at their enthusiasm. Soon they are back on their feet and working harder than ever. I can't believe what a little mal-function can do!

I don't like natural!

Okay, so I was not cut out for action-adventure writing. I even "girl"ed this journal entry up by doodling the following at the bottom:

NEXT TIME: Guest author Carey's fourth grade masterpiece, the sarcastically titled Katie the Great, in which Little Debbie snack cakes play a pivotal role. You don't want to miss it!