The one where I rip off EVERYONE!!

In Uncategorized on November 5, 2010 at 1:33 am

Okay, so you know how other people have really cool ideas?  And you kinda wish you’d thought of them.  And then you think, ‘fuck it I’m doing it my way anyway?’  And you write an entire musical about Brigadoon, only yours has waaaaaaaaay more leprechauns in it?  Yeah?  You got me?  Okay, well this is like that.

I hit this odd little Best Three Minute Event last night.  They had fifteen well gathered performers each performing a top ten list in under three minutes. A good time was had by all, and I was pretty damn impressed.  They were exceedingly funny.  No really.  This is me outside the sarcasm.  Hi.  I don’t get out much.  Anyway, I decided I’d write one.

The first thing that came to mind, was, well, yet another idea that’s been done.   This amazing writer named Pamela Ribon has a fantastic blog, and occasionally she allows us visitations from Little Pam.  Little Pam being her younger self left behind in unsent letters, diary entries of a sort, and short stories she composed.  They are a fantastic read, and it made me curious since I had a journal of my own sitting around.  Props given where they are due, I have decided to come forth with this:

Below the break are the top ten quotes I could find in my journal, ages eight to sixteen, in the last twenty four hours.

God protect me.

(Also, yes, that’s supposed to be a bandit of some form.  Shut up.)

10.) October 6th, 1988
what’s on my mind is my face it’s a mess hapend lik this my friends an i where fixing the fort i sat down a stick fell on my fase
– 8 years old

Okay, just so you know, throughout this whole thing, ALL the spelling is in context. And really, I didn’t change a word.  This is exactly what was written in my Four Star binder notebook.   The above is the third oldest entry I have.  My school made us write journals, and obviously at some point my teacher said, just write what’s on your mind, cause EVERY ONE of them begins with, “What’s on my mind is…”

9.) August 29th 1993
I found a relief to my hormonal conflict, video games.  All today, or Yesterday I’ve been thinking about was Super Mario All Stars.  Not once did I think about her!!  Also I watched the Muppet Movie.
– 13 years old

Very little commentary to add here.  Thing is, replace Super Mario with Angry Birds and Muppet Movie with Netflix, and it bears a really errie resemblance to my usual Sunday these days.

8.) January 11th 1994
I have kind of felt myself purposely hanging around her a lot which leads me to believe that had she not asked me I would have asked her.  To test this, in English class, I looked her in the eyes, at her face.  And from that I can see the soul of a person.
14 years old

I totally can.  Really.  Their eyes, their face.  I see souls.  I’m like George Bush with Putin.  It’s like that.  Yeah.

7.) July 9th 1995
I made a sign today:
Common Curtesy is dead and all that’s left is two billion selfish assholes trying to get their hands on any enjoyable experience they can muster.  Oh sure there are exceptions, but the honest are dowtrodden by the power hungry, the truthful are cursed down by the braggards and the lovers are overshadowed by the asthetic.  Society hates the angel and loves the dealer.
It’s hanging on my door.
15 years old

Translation: The cute girl I like made out with a lacross player.


6.) Oct 11th, 1991
I did it!  I did it! I executed one of my plans!  Here are the plans.  (The circled one is the one I did.)
a – slip the letter in her locker
b – just give it to her
c – put it in her bag
d – decoy
e (Circled) – Put it in her desk

Oct 15th
Okay two things happened today.  I discovered the letter was gone and Molly, as I was running to my locker asked me where my locker was. I showed her. She said she wanted to know where the classes lockers were.  She went right to Shondra.  These two clues led me to believe she found the letter though I’m not sure.  I’ll keep you posted.

Oct 16th
Today I got a responce from Shondra.  I don’t tottally understand it yet.
11 years old

This one I actually remember.  I wrote up a big confession note for a girl I liked, Shondra,  and spend days agonizing on what the hell to do with it.  Hence the plans.  Did you see all the plans?  There were a lot of them.  Like, five. I had that shit mapped out.  Also, by the way, I have no idea what decoy meant.  None.  Maybe I was going to toss a fake duck at her?  I don’t know.  I am also impressed with my Sherlockian skills at cracking Molly’s wily female code.  Just wanted to know where the class’s lockers are, do you Molly?  But are you not part of said class?  Would you not know the location of your own locker?  I have you in my web!

5.) September 6th 1993
Blark Lent: Well John, you’ve just blown you’re chance at ever kissing Tammy, unless she goes to the same camp you do.  How do you feel?
John: Bad, Blark, Bad.
Blark: How Bad?
John: I just kissed my drawing of Tammy on the opposite page.
Blark: Tha bad huh?
John: I know she may not be the first, but if we do go to camp together, I will be sure our soul’s touch.
Blark: And in the mean time?
John: Life.
13 years old

Life, man.  Life.  (The less said about the Blark Lent thing the better.)

4.) Whats on my mind now is hawaii i like it a lot i was on a boat
8 years old

That is the first entry in my journal.  Suck it Sandberg.  I was on a boat years ago.  Also, that was the entire entry.

3.) July 1st, 1991
I’m depressed.  I really like Shondra and I miss her alot.  The thing is she doesn’t like me. (I think.)  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t want to give her up, but I can’t make her like me.  I really wish she did like me.
11 years old

Congratulations gentle reader.  You now get to see the moment emo was born.  Look at it.  Right there.  That’s every emo song, or emo movie, or emo pie you’ve ever tasted right there.  It’s boiled down to it’s essential base, but there it is.

You know…honestly?  Those words really aren’t enough to claim emo as my own invention.  It’s not enough.  I mean, that’s simply what everyone feels.  It’s universal.  I get that.  And I’d concede the point…

…had I not drawn this directly beneath that entry:

That’s some good fifth grade cursive don’t you think?  Does anyone still write their capital ‘i’s like that?

Break that down.  That’s a heart breaking.  And a tear running out of it.  And for those who don’t understand imagery, there is a helpful arrow indicating that the tear…is MEEEEE!  That’s how destroyed I was right then.  I was a tear running out of a perfectly bisected heart.  If only I had had a guitar and knew how to play it.  I’d be depressed in a mansion right now.

But I’m not done with this.  Oh, no.  Cause later on that girl and I “went out,” in the way only repressed former Catholic school students can.   I think we once brushed hands.  It was intense.  And when we did, I drew this:

The fact that I was a big Ghostbusters fan even at the age of eleven is a shock to no one.

No cracks at all!  And my heart is smiling and has suddenly grown arms and legs.  It’s evolved, people.  Evolved!  I’m friggin stunned it’s not giving a thumbs up.


Okay we’re on to the top two.  And you know these are good because I really thought about not putting them in there.  And really, I swear, these are in my journal word for friggin word.

Here we go.

2.) April 10th 1993
Testosterone, Testosterone, horray for Testosterone.
I’m going through puberty.
I have dick hair.
13 years old

What can I add to that?  That was the entire entry.  That’s it.  I thought I covered the topic pretty thoroughly.  But, really, the word ‘horray’ should never be that close to the word ‘testosterone.’  See, this is what happens when nerdy kids listen to lots and lots of Dennis Leary.  Dick hair.  I…yeah.  I got nothing.

Okay…you ready?  Here comes number one.

I had no recollection of this.  I do remember at this time I was a big environmentalist.  I was that kid making you read pamphlets about how minks are shoved into tiny boxes so they suffocate but sometimes wake up when they get skinned.  I wasn’t quite aware I was THIS into it.

1.) July 26th, 1993
I cried tonight.  I cried because I’m scared of what might happen in [my nephew]’s world.  I’m scared of what hardships he might experience.  People get assma now from the polution, who knows to what extent our destruction of ourselves will go to.  I don’t want to be know to other intellegent life-forms as creatures bent on their own destruction to be avoided at all costs.

Okay, let’s take a break here.  I’m worried about aliens.  I’m actually worried about what the aliens are going to think of us if we don’t all watch Ferngully and cry together.  That’s my big fear.  That the aliens will think we’re all big dumbasses.  Like it’s scheduled.  Like the aliens sent an RSVP and will be back in a couple years to take us in.  This is why I’m crying, guys.  The aliens aren’t going to like us.  In the Galaxian congress we’ll be the Rand Paul.  I’m crying.  Seriously.

While others really on what is now killing us to save us.  Chris is on of those people.  I had a big argument with him, and when I realized that there are 1000’s of Chris’s out there it over-welmed me and I went into my room sobbing of the pitiful remains of what could have been a perfect creature,

We could have been perfect creatures¡  We could have been swimming with dolphins.  Frolicking with the gerbils!  Instead, we’re CHRIS.  (Side note, like, two entries later me and Chris are chilling at the school dance talking about girls.  He went from pissing off the aliens as the pitiful remains of what could have been perfect on Tuesday, to my wingman on Wednesday.)

Although it’s sappy; here’s a poem about it.

No really.

This is about to happen.

I wrote a fucking poem about the environment. Get yourselves comfy.  Grab a cup of tea.  I’ll go grab some whiskey.  Like, a lot of whiskey.  Good lord, here goes.

I Cried.

Okay.  I’m terrified already.  That’s the title.  That’s really the title.  I wrote a poem entitled “I Cried.”  I…I…I need more whiskey.

I cried.
I cried for my brothers
were killing my mother.
Happily stabbing
stabbing a knife deep within her live giving breast.
And I helped them.

I’m an asshole!

But I realized I was wrong and tried to open the eyes
of my blind sibblings

Okay, so I’m allright.

I found their eyes closed shut
and the bloody knife
continued to stab.
My mother bled,
bled till she perished
We going with her.

I am super super serious, right now.

Had they but opened their eyes
my cheek would not be decorated
with a drop of mother’s milk
but now.
I cry.
13 years old

Guys.  I just got bukake’d by Gia’s mammaries.  Because we’re bastards.  And the aliens will hate us.

Fuck you, CHRIS!!

And that’s my top ten list.  There is so much more in here I could post.  And I haven’t barely touched the high school years.  Prention and hormonal insanity?  I’m honestly terrified.  But maybe at some point I’ll bring up Little Johnny again.  Probably not.  I’m going to get more whiskey.  God’s sake…

  1. This is brilliant! We need to animate these!

  2. This is great John! I love it. Thank you it made me laugh!

  3. […] (If you came here looking for the funny entry, rather than the weird, I’m planning my vacation online entry, click here.) […]

  4. How else would I write my cursive capital i’s?

    Also, sorry to say, Little Johnny sounds dirtier than Little Pam.

    Fun entry, though, thanks!

  5. John,
    Thank you for a reason to laugh out loud and remember childhood angst.
    (Seth’s mom)

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