Wipe off your shoes and put your napkins in your laps, Chipmunks, because today we’re guests over at Renee Schuls-Jacobson’s blog!
Or I am, at least, and I hope you’ll join me over there to read my guest post, which is part of Renee’s #SoWrong (embarrassing stories) series.
This is a very personal story I’ve hoarded like a pile of nuts for winter, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally share it with you.
Here’s a sneak peek:
I was 18 years old when my life began.
One balmy summer day, after the Y2K dust finally settled, a young, auburn-haired woman walked into the local book store where I worked. Jenn. The new hire. Nearly half a foot shorter than me, her sundress flapped against ivory legs as she took the new hardcovers to the front of the shop.
We were fast friends, chatting in between placing orders and ringing up customers.
“You were maaaade for retail,” she teased, quoting one of our recent patrons.
I rolled my eyes. I’d gotten the full-time job at the book store at 16, the same year I earned my GED. I was taking classes at the local community college, my sights set on screenwriting. Bullied for glasses, braces, a few spare chins and a penchant for white tights, I was eventually home schooled. I sometimes wondered if ‘old soul’ really meant ‘late bloomer.’
Girl4dabible has won over my guilty pleasure heart in many ways. Like by showing her solidarity in her slushie-to-the-face video. She also granted me free reign over captions for her pictures. So, come with me on a very special completely fictional journey…
The sun is shining, but it does nothing to distract Girl4dabible from the awful truth. It’s Monday morning.
Even Dino, a former Fruity Pebbles addict, stares ahead dejectedly. I feel like I’ve been doing this shiz for an ice age, he sighs. And don’t you dare put that thing around my tail again.
Once at jail work, Girl4dabible plops down in her chair and pulls out her workday essentials. The banana mocks her with its cheeriness.
Her keyboard does not care for the slap bracelet. You shan’t sneak off to read any fun blogs using me, it says. And yes I’m allowed to say shan’t. I’m a keyboard for crying out loud.
Finally, lunch time arrives. The slap bracelet snaps away from the carrot sticks as quickly as possible, grabbing hold of the nearest alternative.
The meager lunch of rabbit food does not help Girl4dabible cope with the onslaught of afternoon phone calls. People in the offices next door want to know where the bright pink glow is coming from.
The slap bracelet overhears these conversations and sneaks off to hide in a basket of Smurf back-straighteners. They’ll never find me here, the slap bracelet thinks. (Editor’s note: I never said slap bracelets were smart.)
With the work day over, Girl4dabible heads out to get her fitness on. The slap bracelet reminds her that it doesn’t feel good when she sweats, so maybe she should just forget the whole thing. For some reason, she persists. And perspires.
Finally. Finally! It’s time to head home. Dino invites Sir George Monkeypants of Backseatville up front to enjoy the ride home. It’s the only time he shares the dashboard. Ah, almost time for Smash, they say, as though segregation weren’t a part of their daily lives. Do you think Julia will be able to resist Michael Swift tonight? Girl4dabible chimes in, Ooh and how are they going to make sure Katharine McPhee gets a solo, while she’s still supposed to be just a choir country mouse? They chatter like chipmunks the whole ride home, and live happily ever after until Tuesday.
I always love seeing MJ out and about in the blogosphere. He leaves comments that are as thoughtful as they are funny. In fact, when I see his gravatar on another blog, I’ll often pause to read his comment there.
I was very excited totally stoked, my rad bros, to see what California Dreamin’ adventures the slap bracelet got into with MJ on the West Coast! (Psst. MJ, what would it take to get you to send a fellow lefty some of those In-N-Out burgers?)
Zest, Zeal and Second Husband were so excited about this picture, they had to make an appearance.
Chipmunkianly awesome is a pretty good way to start off describing Linda. If you’re wondering about her blog name, the bus is not just a metaphor. Linda bought a kick-tail bus a while back, and together they’re bringing fun and adventure back to the blogosphere.
Linda sent me one of the kindest notes along with her pictures, once again proving the infectious nature of positivity (what we’re all about here at GoGuiltyPleasures).
Please do yourself a favor and check out Linda’s slap bracelet post, which contains a series of pictures so top-notch, this li’l guilty pleasure blogger might explode into sunshine and rainbows and Hanson songs.
P.S. – If you’re wondering why Linda has so many slap bracelets, it’s because I’m incredibly blonde.
I saved the best for last (not counting the one with Linda and the bus, ‘o course):
Let’s try not to be too jealous of Renee’s recent Gift Basket Giveaway winnings. Besides, how can you hate someone so adorable? And nice. And funny. And talented. And popular. Who’s well into writing her novel and looks ridiculously babe-alicious in a bikini.
Well. Okay. I know it’s hard.
Thank you so much, you wonderful, neon-clad Chipmunks, you, and please keep ’em coming!
One last note: I would like Renee and Linda to know that their slap bracelet pictures have given me the greatest idea pretty much of all time. Let’s just say this year’s ‘win a custom jack-o-lantern by gojulesgo’ contest is going to be the most fun we’ve ever had here on GoGuiltyPleasures. (Any guesses?)
If you could take your slap bracelet anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Renée, please consider this your open invitation to guest post on my blog any time; I know the below submission is only the tip of your guilty pleasure iceberg.
Renée’s Entry:
Okay, you know I love to break into dance. But that’s the small stuff. Another guilty pleasure?
*whispering*
I sometimes sunbathe topless in my backyard.
And there is a middle school in my backyard.
True. You cannot make this stuff up.
If you’re feeling a little sore from Renée’s victory, perhaps this picture will help.
Zeal has never been happier.
After Renée submitted her scintillating entry, I tried to Google Earth her house*. Here’s what came up:
Can you tell which house is Renée's?
That’s right, Renée, all of this is YOURS! ALL YOURS!
*If you’re feeling stalky after seeing that bikini pic, please don’t waste your time haunting the above neighborhood. That isn’t where Renée lives. And duh. Just email me for her address.
My guilty pleasure might surprise you. There’s nothing I like more than spending a quiet evening playing my favorite game: Go Guilty Pleasures, the home edition.
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First I obsessively click on your blog. If I’ve left a comment, I see if you’ve responded to my comment. Then I go click on the Recommended Humor Blogs WordPress page to see if I’m still on there. Then back to your blog to see if anyone has responded either to my original comment or your response to my comment. Back to the Humor page to see if anybody else I know is cycling through the list more often than me. Back to your blog. I leave a follow-up comment if necessary. Then I rate all the other comments and compare their cleverness-quotient to my comment. If anyone else’s score even approaches mine, I spend some time worrying about that. Finish up with just one, teensy-weensy peek back at the Humor page (with my stopwatch to catalogue relative hang-times.)
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Next comes the best part of the game. I BECOME you. I put on the Side Pony of Super Fun-ness. I put my custom-crafted Uncle Jesse mask on my cat, Beeby (this part isn’t as easy as it might sound). I line up some champagne (actually Asti – I’m on a budget) and break out the bacon candy bars and Reeses for snacking. I use mice instead of chipmunks as my life coaches because they’re a lot easier to catch around my house. That may be why they don’t really give me any advice, no matter how many times I ask. But I pretend they do while I make funny, fun faces. I get lots and lots of guilty pleasure from taking lots and lots of pictures of myself being blondly side-ponied and fun. A lot.
~*~
Yup, for my family, there’s no more relaxing way to spend the evening than playing Go Guilty Pleasures. As my hubby said to me just the other night, “Why do you keep calling me Peppermeister? Who the hell is that??”
~*~
Happy Birthday to us!!
I told Peg I was jealous of her side-pony, because it's longer than mine, and probably curls like a dream.
I voted at that link you posted, posted to facebook (i’m not sure how i will prove this with my security settings) and my blog. I have twitter but don’t use it (that’s a story for another time if you get bored) and i got the tattoo and performed the ritual sacrifice.
I emailed you this pic but incase it comes down to bloggers voting in the contest, here is the link (see below for picture).
Now for the guilty pleasures:
I sing to my cat Alex every day when i come home. I even sing as alex sometimes. I am not a good singer so he’s probably embarrassed.
Speaking of bad singing i also am a big harry potter nerd and i used to be a part of an online Hogwarts website where you took classes and met other nerds. You would think that would be a guilty enough pleasure right there as it’s terribly embarrassing but i used to compete in a yearly singing contest there called HOL idol and i would actually record myself singing and enter the contest. 0________0 SO EMBARRASSING. I wrote bad fanfic too.
As perfect as a guilty pleasure can get. Did you see the tattoo on her hand??
I eat entire pints of coffee Haagen Dazs in the car as I drive alone in the car. No spoon. No napkin. By the time I’m finished, both the steering wheel and I are covered with ice cream. Yum.
Wipe off your shoes and put your napkins in your laps, Chipmunks, because today we’re guests over at Renee Schuls-Jacobson’s blog!
Go Jules Go 