A Few Fuck-Yous…

…Brought to you by international air and train travel.

1. Fuck you for wearing your skunk perfume on a plane (also on the train…I’m looking at you, passengers of renfe who showered in old man cologne). I’m glad you’re making an effort to smell good but we’re all hurtling through the sky in a coke can so everyone can smell everyone else a little too well and I will sneeze on you.

2. Fuck you for wearing your nicest heels and jewels through the security line. I’m glad you’re wealthy and old, but there’s really no reason to hold up the line with your nonsense just so you can stick your fake nose a little higher in the air.

3. Fuck you for looking nice on an airplane, honestly. This isn’t so much of a fuck you as it is a how is this possible? I look like a gremlin who was caught in a flood and a tornado and a hornets nest. It’s just rude to look so much better than me, and to make it all look so effortless. I’m wearing socks with sandals, goddamn it, because I’m tired, these shoes were too heavy to check through, and my toes get cold. I’m a wreck. This is a PSA.

4. Fuck the system. Or…yeah. Fuck this whole first class business class nonsense. I get it, because I, too, would like to actually be able to stretch my (very long) legs out whilst flying. But I can’t, because I don’t have money flying off of trees and landing in my wallet.

5. Speaking of first class, fuck the stupid curtain. “Okay so what we’ll do is take the rich people and put them up front and then keep the plebs away from them with a mesh curtain.”

6. Fuck airports that don’t have free unlimited wifi. Sorry I have a six hour layover and wanted to write on my laptop but only had 30 minutes to do it, JFK. Sorry. So sorry I refuse to pay $5 an hour for shitty wifi. On that note, fuck writing a blog post on your cell phone whilst using data.

7. Fuck. I’m so fucking tired. I’m in that mood where nothing matters so I don’t understand why people put any effort into anything non-essential. Also I broke a nail and I’m annoyingly emotional about it.

8. 12 hours down, 8 to go. There’s no place like home. Fuck everywhere else.



Remember when I used to blog? Yeah, I barely remember either….

I’m watching Julie & Julia, the movie that started this whole blog off in the first place. I figured if Julie Powell could utilize her writing and cooking skills through a blog, that maybe I could try my hand at it too. At first, I wrote a lot about how much I loved Julia Child — her spirit, her television persona, her life. Then, I wrote complete and utter silly nonsense. All the time. I’d write a post almost every day, about the books I’d read, the things I noticed about people.I wrote sarcastic posts about boys who had rejected me. I wrote about my declining mental health. I wrote about writing. About college. The Bachelor. Rabbits. Dancing. Barney…

So when I started writing almost 7 years ago on this very site, I didn’t really expect my life to go this way. I thought I’d be a writer by now. Then I thought maybe I’d be a psychologist. Now I’m in cosmetology school, which I wouldn’t have predicted but definitely won’t complain about. Clearly this path hasn’t exactly been linear. I just…thought I’d have it all figured out by now. I’m 23, after all, and when I was 17, I trusted my future self to take care of everything.

This blog was my everything. I had a solid following, an actual subscriber base that cared about my wellbeing and loved my humor. It used to be called Writer’s Block. “You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll run kicking and screaming,” the caption at the top warned. A picture of typewriter keys occupied the banner. The web address? bymyink.wordpress.com. Now? Cappy Writes. A web address that matches the blog’s name. A picture of a packet of letters I bought at an antique shop. No tagline. A lot of sadness. Anger.

I’m not lamenting what used to be, really, so much as finally remembering. Realizing.

Obviously, I haven’t put the time and effort into blogging that I used to. At its peak, blogging was a tool to help me learn about and expand the world that I occupied. It was a way to gain support, to express myself, to hone a craft. It was pure. It meant everything to me. It was how I showed the world who I was, at a time when I thought I knew.

But the past few years haven’t been easy on me. My “mood disorder not otherwise specified” developed into generalized anxiety, a panic disorder, and depression. I was suicidal for a while when I was 18. I went through a surprisingly complicated breakup. I found Hinduism. It helped. New obstacles popped up. I got through them. I went to India. I got E. coli. I came out as bisexual. I graduated college, moved to a new city. I started cosmetology school. And through that all, the anxiety ebbed and flowed, but stayed mostly beneath the surface.

So now? I don’t know. I’m not okay, honestly. Something new is happening inside me, and I can’t understand it. I dealt with some serious depression over the summer, which is unusual for me, as it tends to stay contained within the “fall and winter seasonal affective” bubble. The panic disorder seems to have stayed away, which is one of the only things I find myself grateful for these days. The world doesn’t seem real lately, and neither do I. I’m going through the standard identity crisis that most people in their early 20s seem to experience, sure. But on top of that, some weird depersonalization/dissociation issues are cropping up. Therapy is happening. It’s rough, trying to stay afloat, stay alive, when you’re not even sure what’s going on anymore. I know all of that is vague, and I wish it could make more sense to me too. Just know that I’m dealing with it. I always do. I just don’t always know what to do anymore.

What does this all mean? In terms of this post, this blog, me, my life? I don’t know. All I know is, I got 15 minutes into watching Julie & Julia and I just got this itch to write. I’ve been cooking a lot lately, too. I’ve noticed that the worse I feel mentally, the more I cling to activities and people that used to make me feel calm and human and happy. This blog, more than anything, steadied my life when everything felt like it was going up in flames. So maybe it’s time to jump back in, ya know? To see a little humor in all the bullshit around me. To tell the world what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. To share my story again with anyone willing to listen (and some who are very unwilling but are forced to because I’m a witch and I’ve hexed them).

So I’ll try, if you’ll help me. Your job is very simple: to show up and to read. I don’t even know how many of you are still out there, how many are new to my blog today, how many of you aren’t spam robots trolling through wordpress………

But yeah. I’ll try. No guarantees I’ll be funny, because half the time I just want to cry. But I’ll be here, writing into the abyss, for as long as you’ll have me.


I’ve Been Thinking…

I’ve been absent for a few (three) weeks. Not that any of you noticed. I received no postcards saying that you wished I would come back, no comments on posts asking if I was dead, no knocks on my door from you (okay, thank goodness to that last one).

So here’s what I’ve done in the weeks I wasn’t writing hilarious stuff on this blog:

– Got hired by the school newspaper. (I think that deserves a celebratory dance to Pocketful of Sunshine, Emma Stone style.) And now that you’re done watching that, just think about how awesome I am. Thank you, thank you. $22 a story. I’m rollin’ in dough.

– Joined the Alpha Delta Pi sorority. Once again, my beautiful hair has served me well (I’m lying..). Also, I’m a big idiot and don’t eat. Just kidding! I promise this (and most, actually) sorority isn’t like that at all.

– Watched Easy A twice in a row. Tonight. Hence the video above. I’m catching a cold, okay? And I don’t feel like dealing with another one, so I’m resting. And watching the best movie ever.

– Fantasized a little bit about my middle-aged man crush, Stanley Tucci.

– Successfully avoided recruitment to the Campus Christian Fellowship (several times). That’s actually extremely impressive, as once I practically broke a kneecap diving behind a pillar.

– Asked myself, “Why am I so awesome?”

– Realized that my answer probably had something to do with the fact that I turned into a ninja upon seeing a Christian Fellowship member approaching me.

– Realized that I might possibly go to hell because I avoided said Christian Fellowship member.

– Wondered if there was a hell.

– Stopped wondering about religious things and craved guacamole.

Then I thought about some more stuff:

– Why do baby pageants exist? The age group 0-3 should never exist in competitions. Unless it’s a competition of which baby can lie down for the longest period of time. Or which baby gurgles the most. Or which baby’s mom can change it’s diapers most efficiently. Or which baby is best at being an actual baby and not pretending to be a grown woman.

– What exactly is the purpose of the lowest settings on a toaster? Nobody uses a toaster to simply warm their bread up. And if they do, their families and friends should be seriously worried and possibly hold an intervention. If you want to warm your bread, place it between two rocks and rub them together. The friction will warm the bread while also saving the planet. It’s science, people. I know. I’m in Geology 101.

Cool Girls Who Blog

I don’t know what it is, but…I don’t follow any male bloggers. Not a one. How is this possible, you ask?

Because my blog-following quota has been filled by some super cool girls who blog. And because we girls gotta stick together, I’ve decided to talk about some of these girls. Also, there are times when you need to know that other girls have weird TMI moments, too, like “I’m hungry but I kinda need to poo,” or “Just shut up and let me focus on my snot!” Not saying I’ve ever said those things…but…

A Confederacy of Spinsters: They love Stanley Tucci. Really, I don’t need to say more, but I will. They write odes to men in sweaters. They write about the awkwardness (and awesomeness) of online dating and calling your boyfriend baby. So basically, you should love them. Also, they’re super nice girls. And I bet they’re pretty, too. They won’t be spinsters for long.

Go Guilty Pleasures: Jules has been commenting on my blog for a long time, and since I am a bitch busy person, I hadn’t read her blog until this past week. But now I’m kinda addicted. She loves chipmunks, which I admire since I do too. Also, she basically is a chipmunk (in the best way), and she likes slap bracelets and (duh) guilty pleasures.

Girl on the Contrary: She’s insane. She’s cute. She’s a little obsessed with the apocalypse, but who isn’t? She makes stuff up in her head. I love her. We’ve written a post together. It’s awesome. Also, she’s southern. Y’all.

Monica’s Tangled Web: I like Monica because she’s a strong woman. I also like her because she’s been extremely supportive of me, which I appreciate since she doesn’t know me personally. I really love her. And I love her blog, especially since sometimes I don’t get discounts either, and I have a hard time with sales representatives treating me like I’m an idiot.

Writer’s Block: Ahahahahah yes I did! I included myself in this. Because if I don’t think I’m cool or my blog is noteworthy, no one will. So there. That’s philosophy. Or psychology. Or neither, really.

There are more. There are lots more. But I can’t be asked to write about them, mainly because I haven’t discovered them yet. But you guys should definitely scour the internet for more awesome blogs (written by both sexes, because we’re all about equal rights here).

I have now updated my blogroll, because I just 1) realized I haven’t in a year and 2) love the feeling of seeing my blog’s name on someone’s blog roll who I have never heard of. It gives me chills, honestly. Love it.

On a completely(ish) unrelated note, I may someday (in the distant future) make t-shirts for my blog. So. If you’re awesome, you’ll let me know what your favorite quotes and/or posts are from my blog. Ok? Ok.

Cheers to all of you for making my life merry and bright. It’s like Christmas on WordPress every day.

Stop Being Useless and Start Being Pizza هرة

I’ve gotten some interesting searches recently…here, read some. Welcome to my world.

i hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited but im a creepy stalker – Well I’m glad you can confess this to someone, even if it is just Google and technically that isn’t a person…anyway, you should stop turning up out of the blue and telling people you’re a creepy stalker. Just a thought.

stop being useless and start being pizza – I agree. Also, I’m just going to assume this is addressed to boys because they can be very useless and I would much prefer that they were pizza.

how to get the penis point up – I really wouldn’t know, and if you’ve resorted to coming to this blog to find out, you’re going to be 1) sadly disappointed and 2) very unsuccessful at everything you do in life.

wild thornberry honey badger – You have combined two of my favorite things. Thank you, kind stranger.

threesome punchlines – Get off my blog. Now.

hipster winter clothes – They’re the same as their summer clothes. Badum chhhh! Get it?

blonde girls 4 years old – Please stop searching the internet for that kind of thing. It’s unnerving.

jazz+hands+driving = dangerous! So stop that right now! Hands at 10 and 2, kids. 10 and 2.

wrench – You are definitely in the right place…

marrying a short woman – Totally acceptable. Unless you’re really tall, in which case I would suggest that you save yourself for a tall woman. But it’s obviously up to you. Just don’t come crying to me when it all goes horribly awry.

make friends – You can’t force me, Mom! I know I’ve had an imaginary friend for a long time and other people told you it would be unhealthy for me. I know they said I wouldn’t make real friends. I know. But I like my life. I don’t want friends. They just hurt me, Mama!

you are awesome – Right back at ya! You are so awesome! Mainly because you came here. And this blog is awesome. So the awesome has rubbed off on you. It’s science, I swear.

هرة – I don’t know what this means, but it looks a little bit like Princess Leah smiling, so I’m down with it.

My top search of all time: cat. This is what I’ve become.

We’re All Cowards Here

This is the internet (in case you didn’t remember). It’s a great place, full of pictures of kittens, recipes, social media, and, you guessed it, some pretty great writing. But it’s also a place full of assholes.

I’m talkin’ to you, anonymous commenters of the world.

I do it too. I did it last week in my post “She’s Falling, Flying on the Wings of Love.” I hid behind the semi-anonymity of my blog and criticized someone I don’t know and will probably never meet. Do I regret it? Yeah, a little. Do I still believe in what I said? Somewhat. I asked people to laugh at her. That ain’t cool, bro. I realize now that, dare I say it, I sympathize with her.
I guess the circumstances are  a little different because she voluntarily put herself in the spotlight, right in front of everyone, and said, “Look at me! Look at me!” And we did. We looked at Courtney Stodden and said, “She’s fake, she’s a whore, she’s just doing it for the attention.” But how do we know her motives? Not gonna lie, I have a strong suspicion that she married D-Hutch for a little more than just love, but that’s no reason for everyone to send her hate mail. Besides, maybe she is completely, madly in love. I wouldn’t want people criticizing my marriage…She’s 17. She’s younger than I am. She’s married. She wants attention. She likes controversy. Maybe she’s totally wrong. But does she deserve to be called a skank by half the world? No. Nobody deserves that.
Because I run a blog, I put myself out there too. Fortunately enough, not very many of my readers know my true identity and therefore don’t know what I look like, where I live, etc. And I will never go so far to say that I have celebrity status, obviously, but more than 5 people read this blog…therefore, some y’all are bound to hate it.

And one of you told me.

“You misspelled ‘feisty’ in your sidebar. It would be wise for an aspiring author to use spellcheck, perhaps… And perhaps stop acting so prudish…” – Anonymous.
1. Prudish? I don’t follow…
2. Perhaps you could limit your use of the word perhaps. You know, just perhaps.
3. I did misspell feisty in my sidebar, and it has now been fixed. Next time you want to correct my spelling, though, maybe go about it a little differently. Compliment my hair. Tell me I’m sassy. Then say I can’t spell worth shit.

“While I agree with this sentiment, you don’t seem to be immune to stereotyping gays yourself. Why would you enjoy watching sassy gay friend videos if you didn’t enjoy the stereotyping of gay men? Also, ‘OK with Gay’ is not a coined phrase and shouldn’t be in quotation marks.” – Anonymous
1. I kind of have nothing to say to that. I didn’t say I was perfect, and I by no means ever will. So maybe I stereotyped in a post about not stereotyping. I tried not to. My bad.
2. Heaven forbid I put something in quotation marks when they’re not supposed to be. Look, I ended a sentence with “to be.” Is that wrong? Probably. Screw conventions.
3. I want to read your immaculately edited blog.

“You’re not that funny. Most of humor is based on hyperbole, pretending you are British, or on self-deprecation.” – Anonymous.
1. Bro, you’re just rampaging now. I checked, and it’s the same IP address. You’re wasting your time on my blog if you don’t think I’m funny.
2. Get ready for a truth bomb: You’re right. Most of my humor is based on all of that. I hate on myself a lot to make people laugh. I use too many Britishisms. I exaggerate everything. (See, that right there was an exaggeration.) Oy, I’m bloody well clever! You know that made you laugh a bit! Oh, it didn’t? Must be because I’m a huge dolt! Bugger.

I guess there isn’t much more I have to say. I’ve been taught some lessons, though…don’t be a bitch over the internet and then cry about it when someone does the same to you…yeah, that might be one lesson. Another? Anonymity is both good and bad. Another? Don’t say stuff online you wouldn’t talk to your grandmother about. Another? Say it to someone’s face, not in black and white. Another? I will always defend myself. Another? I strangely admire Courtney Stodden for sticking up for herself too. Apparently her boobs are real. Touche, Courtney. Touche.

Kissing and Collaboration (Take Notes, Kids)

Hi y’all! We (Cappy @ Writer’s Block and Girl on the Contrary) have decided to collaborate on a blog. We know, we know. The world’s been waiting for this one for a looooong time. We’ve known each other (through the interwebs) for over a year now, and we thought it would be only appropriate to celebrate our anniversary by posting together. So here goes.

Cappy: The first kiss: it happens to the best of us. And they happen over and over (if you’re lucky…or unlucky, if you’re looking simply for “the one”). Of course, Girl on the Contrary and I were about 97 when we had ours (not together…) since we’re slight flirtation failures, but nevertheless, it happens.

We’re romantics. You can tell by the fact that we wear corsets and walk around knighting people all the time. So we figured we’d talk about what we deem acceptable and unacceptable vis-a-vis first kisses.

Girl on the Contrary: Cappy is being too modest. She was actually 95 when she had her first kiss, she just didn’t want to tell you that for fear you would think she was a “hoochie-mama” (those were her words, not mine, I would never say “hoochie-mama”, I prefer the term amorously gifted. It hasn’t caught on yet.) She was right about one thing, however, I do like to knight people but only those who have shown themselves to be valorous in some way- like letting me cut in front of them in the grocery store check-out. I’m not really romantic, I just like romance. Anyway, I definitely like kissing so it’s worth discussing, and by worth it, I mean Cappy and I plan to make a lot of money writing about kissing. So, like, really worth it.

The Place

Cappy: On a balcony. So Rom & Jul.
In a wheat field during a sunset…but hey, don’t wear shorts, or severe chafing will ensue and your kiss scenario will be demoted to the bad section of this list.
On a sailboat…during a sunset? Don’t lean against a sail or anything though. Don’t want to lose your balance and get eaten by a shark! That’s not romantic.
On an albatross. Because, really, it’s bloody well majestic.
In a hot air balloon. Just don’t hit a plane or something. We’re not sure it’s possible, but it would be just our luck.

GotC: In a closet. As I understand it, when two people go into a closet together- it turns into Heaven for like 7 minutes. Also, beaches. Also, also, my living room couch. It’s so simple yet so perfect.


Cappy: A field just as a crop duster passes overhead.
An albatross that really needs to potty.
A balcony…because, really…do we WANT to compare ourselves to Rom and Jul? They. Died. And it wasn’t just like a little, painless death. Their deaths were filled with poison, heartbreak, and stab wounds. I blame the friar.

GotC: I agree, it was totally the friar’s fault. Also, cars. It’s super awkward and there are arm rests and seat belts to deal with. Also, also, under bleachers at any sporting events. Steer clear of the under the bleachers because before you know it, other kids will be calling you “amorously gifted.”

The Mood

Cappy: Dark-ish. Because he might not be that cute. And you don’t necessarily want to see his fish face looming in on you and then you all of a sudden think, “WHAT AM I GETTING MYSELF INTO?!” But then maybe that’s what you SHOULD think, and you’d better think it fast before he starts ripping your clothes off.

GotC: If Clueless taught me anything, it taught me that lighting it crucial. Florescent lighting is not flattering on anyone so avoid places with florescent lighting. Dusk is nice. So is twilight. I’m pretty sure those two are the same thing.

Cappy: Totally dark. You don’t want any wandering hand action to be happening…unless, you know, you DO want wandering hand action. But at this point we’re only talking about the first kiss, not the first grope.

GotC: Too bright. You don’t want to see too much, trust me on that.

The Caress:

Cappy: If he grabs your head and locks it in, we have a problem. But if he touches your face, whispers something nice, says you’re pretty when your eyes are closed, etc…well, actually, he’s probably just Edward Cullen and you should get your holy water out. The caressing should be nice, but really, no matter what he does, it’ll seem kinda dumb when you say it out loud.

GotC: Ah, the caress. Super sappy, super romantic, super necessary. A touch of the face, a holding of the hand, when he pushes your hair behind your ear……..I’m going to stop now because I think you get it and if you don’t, you need to watch some movie adaptations of Jane Austen novels, they usually get it right in the sweet caresses department.

The Whole Package:

Cappy: You should feel nice afterward, and your tonsils should remain intact, thank you very much.
And that, my friends, is kissing advice from two foxy ladies who just like to keep it real. You like us. Admit it. Actually, don’t admit it, just show your love with a little smoochin’.

GotC: You should be smiling, and every time you think about it afterward, you should smile. And if you’re not smiling or don’t ever think of it again, it wasn’t done properly. Also, according to conventional wisdom, unlike us, you’re not supposed to talk about it.

So there you have it. We’ve tested all these scenarios out, so they’re like, totally scientific and everything. Just listen to us and we promise, you’ll have a lotta luck in love. Meow.

Girl on the Contrary is a sassy, sassy lady. You can read more about her here, or in this post I wrote about our love. We share similar tastes in music, love, and life, and both have an unnatural obsession for Alice in Wonderland. And I love her dearly because she was one of the first people to read this blog (she was here before you. Feel bad about yourselves). If you know me, you want to know her. Or, contrarily (get it? get it?), if you know me but wish you didn’t…well, what are you doing here anyway?

But really, Girl on the Contrary, Chivalry is NOT Dead.

There is a girl I love. She’s the only one for me, really. And no, I’m not lesbian, but I’m also not kidding. A little bit of my soul is inside of her, and a little of hers is probably in me (note the Harry Potter reference, please). Her name is Girl on the Contrary, and we’re friends. Ish.

This is my love letter to her.

Girl, you shine. (Aaron Carter reference for the win. Also, I can call you Girl without sounding ridiculous because technically it’s your first name.) I hope we can meet someday. I say this in “public” on my blog so you will know how serious I am about it. Also, I say this in public in case you turn out to be a 40-year-old creepy rapist and I meet you and then you try to rape me, as rapists are wont to do. People will know I was with you, “Girl on the Contrary.” Don’t try to fool them like you fooled me! You won’t get away with your rape scheme.

I think the point of this post, as the title indicates, was to tell you that chivalry is not dead. Because I know you lost faith in chivalry a few days back, and I want to restore it.

 Yesterday, as I was driving home from work, I saw this woman walking along the street. She seemed kinda normal at first, but as I watched (I was at a stop light like a million cars back – I swear I was being a safe driver!), I noticed she was probably pretty cracked out. She kept tugging at her clothes, and walking as if she really wanted to dance but couldn’t, and her legs were all wiggly. It was really heartbreaking, actually, and I watched her with sadness as she scratched at her neck, pulled at her clothes, and (probably) made weird noises. I don’t know how a person gets to be that hopeless, but there she was, a symbol of hopelessness, practically making me cry as I sat in my little car waiting for the light to turn green.

But all of a sudden, a man came up to her. Now, usually, I wouldn’t really be okay with a man approaching a cracked out woman, because of the usual possible rape consequences etc, but he seemed to know her, and as he walked toward her she seemed to calm down a little.

He seriously sat down with her on the sidewalk and held her. I was shocked, mainly because he was totally scary looking at first, but then I caught a glimpse of his face and he looked so nice and caring, and it completely broke my heart because chivalry, my dear friend, is not dead. That man has proven it.

The woman just sat there in his arms. There was no more clothes-tugging, no more dancy-pants legs. Just quiet stillness. I wish I could’ve just sat and stared, but I had to leave as the light turned green. It was tragic, sure, but also heartwarming. I like when my heart is warmed.

So there’s my letter to you. It isn’t really a love letter anymore, but it’s nice all the same, I think.


P.S. Let’s actually do a blog collab. Sorry I’m dumb and haven’t been on top of my game!

And In The End…

It’s been about a year since I first started this blog. I can’t believe it! Through this, I’ve found myself, and it definitely helped having y’all reading!! So thank you. 47,000 hits later, I feel like I’ve truly accomplished something.

And I’m graduating. Leaving this school, going on to another, feeling really really weird about it…but I know I’ll always have this to come back to. It’s like that one place in the park that you always feel most serene at, or that amazing memory you have that you think about all the time, or that one blanket you like the most. It’s the comforting, repeating nature of this blog and this community that I’ve built around me that makes me feel so amazing and alive. And it’s made my life this past year so complete.

I found my home at school these past 4 years. I’d never felt quite right before, but I was able to become who I am today through those people I met at school who showed me it was okay to be who I am, who I want to be, who I have to be. And I’ll never forget how my life was touched these past few years, especially this one. It’s truly a wonderful life.

I don’t really have much else to say. There are always so many feelings, but never the right words to articulate them with. So I guess I just have to quote The Beatles:

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.

I’m Famous.

I, Cappy the Magnificent, have been discovered. I know, you’ve been waiting for this for a while. You spotted it from the beginning, from my very first (surprisingly serious) posts. You were sure I’d be famous by now. Well, now your dreams have come true. I guess mine have too.
Anyway, I’ve been contacted by Scholastic books and they’ve asked me to write a book based on my blog. After all, I am a 12 year old blogger, so my story is pretty unique and exciting! …I think I’ll call the book “Born Yesterday” since I practically was.
Guys, I’m gonna be as famous as Rebecca Black! Which reminds me, it just so happens to be Friday!!!
Do you think Justin Beiber will marry me? Do you think I’ll get my own Disney Channel show!? WILL I GET TO MEET THE REAL HANNAH MONTANA?
I am so ready to be famous. My daddy always told me I was special.

Oh, what’s that you say? Authors aren’t usually super famous? Wait, they usually stay behind the scenes and write all day?
Oh. Never mind. I just wanted to meet Snooki.

Don’t believe a word I say. April Fools!