A Letter From My 12 Year-Old Self

Today I found a letter I wrote on November 12th, 1982 when I was 12 years old.  It's to my cousin Shiron.  First, I'm impressed by my cursive writing, which is much worse today than it was almost 30 years ago.  I was living in Hawaii at the time and Shiron was in California.  She would come home to Hawaii during the summers.

I got a kick out of it and thought I'd share it, complete with grammatical errors and spelling errors:

Dear Shiron,


Thanks for the pictures of your brothers.  did you give them the letter that I wrote for them?  And you don't take ugly pictures.  And what's an A.S.B. card?


I got boared of Pac-Man and I play Jr. Donkey too.  I can make it up to the one where you have to jump on a spring.


Burgundy can make it up to her banana!  But on reagular Pac-Man I think that the farthest she can make it up to is the first apple.  I'm very good at Tron!


Lana is 9 years old.  You still listen to Scott Baio?  Now my favortie song is "Do you wanna touch" by Joan Jett and "Jack and Diane" By John Couger and "Don't fight it" By Journey.  Whats your favorite songs.


I used to like this boy Keoni, then now I like his best friend Dane.  Do you like anyone special?  How's your mom and Dad and your Brothers?  Do you want to go to collage with me when were old enough!?


Love,
Natalie


PS. My leg problem is over I can do anything now!


Ah to live in the days where life was as challenging as your next level on Donkey Kong and Scott Baio was all the rage.

I stalked Keoni for a good two years during Middle School.  I had forgotten all about liking his friend Dane, that was short lived.  I didn't realize I had aspirations of going to college when I was 12.

My leg problem was from stepping into a hole with a broken pipe in it that cut my leg open, requiring a ton of stitches.  Shiron was with me when it happened earlier that summer.

To be 12 again.

Flush, Wash, Repeat

I've been going out quite a bit lately, dinner with friends, galas.  Tis the season for squeezing into my Spanx (the modern day girdle) and having a good time.

But, something has been pissing on my parade and chapping my ass.  I'm sick and tired of going into public bathrooms and having to perform mental gymnastics in order to figure out how to make the sink work and the paper towels come out.

Do I put my hand under the faucet, over it, wave it across, lift a handle?  We have put a man on the moon.  We now need uniformity in our bathrooms!  Every public bathroom should work the same way.  The water starts the same way and the towels dispense the same way.

By the time I get my Spanx off, go to the bathroom, wiggle back into them, and pull up my tights, I'm exhausted enough.  The whole process is complicated even more if I've had a couple dirty martinis.  The last think I want to do is arm wrestle a damn sink.

Let's stop the madness.  Surely there is some law we can pass requiring uniformity in public bathrooms.  I'm all for them looking differently, they just need to work the same.  At a minimum there should be clear instructions showing how the sink and towel dispenser works, especially in places that serve alcohol.

Some pageant queen somewhere should take this up as a platform.  I think I'm onto something.

Amy Tan No Love Me Long Time

Note: I'm part Chinese.  My great grandfather immigrated from China to Hawaii, which means I can say this kind of stuff without it being racists.

My excessive computer use contributes to some tough knots in my upper back.  To help handle the pain I regularly see a chiropractor and also try to get frequent massages.

I often visit the Oriental Massage place at a local mall where you can just walk in without an appointment.  There is a woman there who does an amazing job, and for a great price.

I've been seeing her on and off for about a year and we have developed a love hate relationship.  I call her Amy Tan, after one of my favorite Asian authors.  She doesn't seem to mine, but she also barely speaks English.  It's not like she knows my name either.  I've seen her for 12 months and she still calls me "lady".

Amy Tan and I communicate mostly through sign language and our own version of charades, which I sometimes have fun with.  Once she questioned (by motioning) why my shoulder was so jacked up.  My reply in English was "It's from compulsive masturbating".  She just smiled and nodded.

I think she secretly speaks more English than she lets on and only puts up with my shit because I tip her ridiculously well.  Because I suspect Amy Tan of holding out on me in regard to her understanding of English, I have become very suspicious of her actions.

Today I was on the massage table when Amy Tan's dad came over and started chatting with her.  I don't mind too much as you get what you pay for when it comes to ambiance.

They were speaking in Chinese which sounds like "Ce chong ce chong" But, what I heard in my head was "Keep her face down while I go through her purse."  I later checked and my purse looked untouched.

Today Amy Tan was working her magic.  She was grinding her elbow into my right shoulder, and then she farted.  Being the polite person that I am, I ignored it.  Though I did think to myself "If I smell it her tip is getting cut in half."

At the end of our hour I was feeling much better.  Amy Tan goes a bit overboard with the karate chops at the end.  I think she hits me hard just to be a bitch.

Before I leave we go through our usual routine, she offers me a cup of water but I refuse because she probably spits in it.

My Gay Soulmate

If I were a gay man I would marry my friend James.  He gets me.  I can text him the most vile, bizarre photos or comments and it doesn't phase the man one bit.

We have so much in common.  We are both borderline addicted to the sleep aid Unisom, and both can't stand fake people.  He is my go-to guy when I need a serious catty bitch session to blow off some steam.  Because we love each other we have plans to go to Unisom rehab together if our  use gets out of control.  Here is a recent texting conversation we had about what would happen if we went to rehab.

James:  We would just openly talk about people in front of them as if they weren't right there.  It would be hilarious.  Like people would be talking about their issues and I'd look at you and be all like "Blah, blah, blah and btw wtf is SHE wearing?  Is she high now?

Me: And we would take pics of their stupidity and post them on fb.

James:  "Out" all the patients on FB!!! Tag their asses with their real names and provide captions about what junkies they are.  Like: " This is Frank Jones.  Millbury Middle School principal and gay for drug money."

Me: LOL I almost pissed myself laughing.  Love it.  Better yet we blackmail them for sexual favors.

In reality we would never do such a thing. At least I wouldn't, I'm not so sure about James ;)  The important thing is that I have my Gay BFF who gets my twisted side along with my "normal" side.  Unconditional love at its best.