Hi guys—it’s me, Evelyn. My Aunt Debbie and Uncle Mitch are the best, and I love them. They love me too, but they tend to show it in different ways, as evidenced by this recent round of emails.
Thank you so much for your lovely get-well-soon cards. You’ll be happy to know that my ankle is 98% better and I’m getting around just fine. My cast is finally off, and the doctors now have me wearing this giant brace—Uncle Mitch calls it a moon shoe, just to freak me out, because he knows how I feel about the moon—for a few weeks. At first I thought the lumpy ol’ thing would put a bit of a cramp in my style, but my friend Joanne says she may be able to bedazzle it, as it’s made out of this soft rubber stuff. Can you imagine? Me, with a giant glitzy shoe! Maybe I’ll even start a trend!!! Look out, Vogue!
Love ya lots,
You would NOT believe the looks I get when I wear my bedazzled boot! I’ve also added several ribbons, a gnome-shaped pin, and a lacy fringe around the top. It’s a smash hit! Speaking of smash hits, what are you listening to these days? Are you a fan of the Wanted? I think it’s nice that there’s a song out there thanking people for attending gatherings. “I’m glad you came.” What a nice thing to say! People should take a lesson from these polite young men.
Keeping it cool,
Please, please, please help me get your aunt to stop wearing her disgusting moon shoe. You realize she hasn’t actually been required to wear it for two weeks now, right? Her ankle has completely healed and the doctors told her to throw the dumb thing away, but she can’t bring herself to do it. She now says she wears it because it’s her “signature piece,” and she refuses to take it off, regardless of the occasion. She stepped into a puddle while wearing it three days ago and the thing never dried properly, so it smells like dried funk wherever we go. She found some feathers on sale at Hobby Lobby so now it looks—and smells—like a sick bird who landed in a pile of vomit and glitter backstage at some show in Vegas. It’s like an old sneaker that you’d find in a box marked FREE at a tag sale at a terrible Lady Gaga impersonator’s house. It is the worst. I’m legitimately afraid if she gets a hold of some googly eyes, the thing is going to become sentient and destroy us all. Help me, Evelyn-Kenobi. You’re my only hope.
I Wanna Be Well (But That Shoe F-ing Smells),
P.S. I had to explain the double meaning in that Wanted song to her and she’s mortified. I haven’t seen her this embarrassed since the time you explained what Lady Gaga’s “disco stick” was supposed to be. Good lord.
Thanks for letting me know that bedazzled moon shoes are so last season. I had no idea! Are Crocs still in for this summer? I have a neon green pair that go with everything.
Your mom tells me that you’re getting ready to go to the prom! Details please!!!! Uncle Mitch and I didn’t go to the prom together—I went with the school hunk, Kevin Brentley, who I thought was a total dream at the time. He picked me up in a purple limousine, can you imagine? And his mint-green cummerbund matched my gown perfectly. We were voted King and Queen! Your Uncle Mitch went to the prom, too. He wore a plain black suit and ended up having to purchase his shoes because they were rentals and he vomited all over them. Typical Mitch!
Yeah, yeah. Of course I went to the stupid prom. Tina Flamenco asked me, and you’d have to be a dumbass to turn down Tina Flamenco. Turns out I was a dumbass anyway, because her ex-boyfriend showed up and won her back and I had to sit there and drink spiked punch and watch them slow-dance and make up to “Take My Breath Away,” that dumb song from that dumb movie Top Gun.
Anyway, later that night, your Aunt Debbie found me puking in the parking lot while she was headed to her purple limo with Craptain America, her idiot boyfriend at the time. He was a jerk about the whole thing and kept yelling, “Hey Deb! It’s not like I don’t have other offers!” So I said some ungentlemanly things to the dude and he tried to take a swing and missed and I ended up puking up a little more on his stupid purple limo. Long story short: guess who married the prom queen? Yeah. That’s right. NOT KEVIN BRENTLEY.
The moral of this story, I guess, is that the prom is pretty dumb, and may not turn out to be the night you hope it will be. But also, it may end up pretty good. Also, don’t drink the punch. People your age are terrible at spiking things, and even if they don’t spike it, punch is horrible and tastes like lollipop spit.
—The King Is Dumb, Long Live Uncle Mitch
I’m so glad to hear that you had a great time at the dance! I hope they played decent music (and none of that filthy stuff!). Did they play the Electric Slide? I’m a bit of an expert at it, if I do say so myself!
Can you believe it’s almost summer?!? What are your plans for the best season of the year? I hope visiting us is on the list!
Miss you bunches,
There is a new song
I love like craaaaaaazy!
I’m your Aunt Debbie!
SO CALL ME MAYBE!!!!!!!
#1 Fan of “Call Me Maybe,”
Hey It’s Your Aunt Again!
And This Is Crazy!
You Have My Number!
So Call Me Maybe!!!!
Your Uncle Mitch thinks I’ve gotten a little carried away with “Call Me Maybe.” I suppose he’s right. I started singing it to complete strangers, but then they’d ask for my number, and I’d refuse, and ooh boy, that didn’t go over well at all. Especially with Kevin Brentley, who I ran into at Penney’s while buying some slacks for work. He said, “Sure, I’ll call you, Deb. You’re not with that loser Mitch anymore, are you?” and then said some fairly crude things that aren’t for a young lady’s ears. Just then, your Uncle Mitch met up with me after grabbing a snack at Pretzelville and, well, we’re not allowed at Penney’s anymore. Where am I going to get my work slacks now? Any ideas?
Call Me Maybe (Sorry! One Last Time!)
Aunt Debbie, banned from Penney’s
No, I didn’t punch him! I’m a grown man. I threw my pretzel at his face. Irony alert: dude works in the tool department.
Keep on rockin’ in the free world,
Can you believe Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are kaput?! (Do people still say “kaput?” Cheryl’s daughter used to say “dunzo,” but I don’t think she says that anymore, either. Is “dunzo” a thing? How about “splitsville”? Or “donesburg”? Let me know!) Anyway, we’re looking forward to your visit in August, though I hope I’ve recovered from my fever by then—my OLYMPIC fever! USA! USA!
P.S. What is YOLO? Is it some kind of yogurt? I asked the paperboy and he just said, “That’s the motto,” but didn’t say anything else. If you want, I can pick up some YOLO and we can eat it on our trip! Love you!
Thanks for teaching your aunt about #yolo. And Twitter, in general. She’s started an account for the both of us. Great. She’s also started listening to “Call Me Maybe” again, because why? “Because YOLO, Mitch,” she says. So thanks again. So, so much.
Uncle Mitch Don’t Like It (Stop the Yolo, Stop the Yolo),
WE’RE ON TWITTER! Carly Rae Jepsen is, too! Can you believe it?! How do we find you on there? I’m so excited! Mitch, not so much. Typical Mitch! We’re off to walk the dog—hope you have a great day and that you’re enjoying your summer, because yolo!!!!!
P.S. We’ve finally been allowed back in Penney’s! Work capris, you’re all mine! #capris! #yolo! ♦