Friday, May 14, 2010

Blast From The Past

It is time for a Blast From The Past, ladies and gentlemen. Mostly because of the buzzing I have in my head that dictates that there shall be no coherent thought today (or perhaps any day?). Do any of you hear that buzz of "Waaaaaaahhhhhhhh"? Because I know I do. It is the sound of brain cells running (not just walking) out of my head.

Goodbye, brain cells. Goodbye forever. I have always wanted to know what being a dumb blond feels like. And now I know. I reiterate: Goodbye forever.

Some things you should know before I publicly humiliate myself:

*I have been heavily medicated. And thanks to that beautiful, exquisite medication, my cough is on it's way out and I am no longer in hunched-over-holy-crap-this-is-it-let's-make-out-my-will pain. I love you, modern science. That cough was so wrong. I never want to see it's ugly face again.

*Last night was the Dance Festival, and let me tell you ('cause I just haven't done it enough), my Kindergartener is the bomb-diggity. He did a "little eagle, leave your nest" dance. I laughed, I cried. And then I watched the video we made late last night and laughed and cried again. I don't really know what it is about that kid, but he just melts me. Into butter.
Dear K.J.,
Please consider the love and dedication and abject devotion I have given you over the years and marry a woman who loves me. Please. Please. Please.

*I am going in just a few hours to spend some high quality girl time with the Double B's Mom and sisters for the weekend. Rock it! I have been very excited about this. I am hoping something totally wild and crazy happens (like dancing the bunny dance in the Blue Bunny ice cream shop, which I convinced them ALL to do last time). This time we will be in Provo. Maybe we could toilet paper BYU and then spend the night in jail? Really, a viable option.

Alright. Here is your Blast From The Past. Please keep in mind, this is a particularly humiliating time in my life. This entry comes straight out of my Baby-Sitter's Club Diary. I was ten years old. I have preserved spelling and punctuation, because if nothing else, I am an honest woman. And I share it with you now so you can have some insight into a truly warped mind and also as part of a criminal defense should I ever need to stand trial. It speaks for itself. Uhem:

December 29, 1993

Dear Diary,
Hi! How you doing!! Well, you are fine if I am. Sorry I haven't wrote for so long. I can't believe it's been almost a year since I got this book. Time passes so quickly. I'm busy with school and trying to find time to write. But I can write to you when I try to, with the Lord on my side, I can do anything...
I don't really know what to say. Time is a waste to count -- it goes by so fast, you'll eventually
forget. Yet it seems yesterday I was just entering Mrs. Smith's class in first grade. I was afraid yet, excited, and did not know if my teacher would be nice, or mean, young, old I did not know. Now I am about to enter a new world, Middle School, and high school then college. A butiful marrage, a few wonderful kids, a novel, maybe two or more. My writing going higher and higher up. And than, my kids mariages, hopefully all of them and before I know it I'm a grandma, and
then -- one peaceful night I hope to die, and easily in my sleep. Loving life and friends.

And with that, I wish you all a fond farewell. You don't ever have to come back again. I won't hold it against you, I promise. The End.


Melissa said...

I love it!

Ducksoup said...

you are so cute marie. forgot the novels, just sell your baby sitters club diary. and you are going to be almost in my neck of the woods. i'm hoping somehow i run into you :). loved your post! have a fun girls weekend.

Elise H. said...


Here's to your writing "going higher and higher"! Have you written anything that I can proofread? I will give you my super-duper top secret e-mail address if you promise to send me something to read. Dyin' for reading material here.


Kamille said...

I choose to not go back and read my previous journal entries. I know I'm a goof, I do not need written proof. Oy with the poodles.