So, what I’m saying is, should I find myself dying in a fiery plane crash, I figured I’d write a Last Will and Testament. One written on a blog should definitely hold up in any sort of legal matter, especially when I’m dealing with internetty and fake things, right?

To Tammi Jean, I leave my many thousand tweets. It is because of you I’m at that website in the first place, clogging the feeds of strangers everywhere with my incessant cat- and fart-talk.

To Ashley, I leave you any Backstreet Boys (and other random, tweenaged pop acts from the 1990s) memorabilia I might have stashed away somewhere. New Kids on the Block, too. I have some buttons and stuff.

To Jack and Agnes, I leave you all of the tape and Q-tips I own. I know how much you like chewing on those things, respectively, and now I won’t be there to verbally and psychologically abuse you when you do.

To Sandy Bear, take my car and my acceptance to The New School and live for me! Become a real, little bear!

Okay, I’m done. This wasn’t funny and I’m still scared! :(

I Make Monsters, steffbomb.com

I decide that I will be attending The New School in New York City this upcoming school year, but now must find $15,301 or a very, very cheap place to stay in or aroundish Greenwich Village (or, you know, Brooklyn, Queens, etc.) or will begrudgingly commute to classes.

I talk with much enthusiasm about how I celebrated Father’s Day (seriously, I had a lot more fun than my monotone suggests).

I burp and then blow the burp out of the side of my mouth.

And other awesome things.

She called people and objects “basterd” a lot. But not in, like, a curmudgeon, old lady way; she knew she was awesome and she knew she could say whatever she wanted. Her husband left her and her two kids one night and she had to work very long hours at Rexy’s Restaurant & Bar in order to keep up with the bills after that and for far too many years (Bill, my affectionate name for my absentee granddad, wasn’t big on the ol’ “child support” idea). My dad and aunt Linda spent much of their tween- and teen-hood learning everything on their own. My dad has become a fabulous cook.

I spent a lot of time at “Aunt Linda’s” (I called it this even though Grandmom still lived there and it had always been her house) as a kid. I have six cousins from Aunt Linda and Uncle Ramone, three of whom are around my age. We’d draw things until dawn, play Jailbreak with the neighborhood nerds, and hang out at the park down the road. I always felt pretty poopy about how much attention Grandmom always showed me; it was as if I was the queen grandkid, even though she had several living with her. I felt like my cousins always resented me, and I never meant to be such a goody-two-shoes in her eyes. She told me several times that I looked like she did when she was my age. Maybe that’s why she liked me so much (we Bellas are pretty vain).

After my parents divorced and we cousins grew up, I didn’t visit as often as I should have and I regret that more and more as the days go on. When I visit with my dad and see the urn holding her ashes (and even as I fucking type this) I just want to cry my eyes out. I hadn’t seen her conscious and well in far too long before I had to see her in the hospital. I think the last time I’d seen her was around Christmas time; she had a habit of falling asleep in her chair by the television. It was as if she outright refused to accept the room and bed my Aunt Linda prepared for her. I’d gotten Grandmom a nice, warm blanket (blue to match her eyes) and a fluffy, comfy pillow. Maybe slippers, too, but I can’t remember. She cried at these gifts and I cried, too, because I wasn’t expecting that reaction. By the time I left that day, she was already snoring away, cuddled up with her new gifts. That was the last time I saw her before I had to say goodbye for good.

I just didn’t have enough time. I mean, I did, but I didn’t use it well. I knew her well during my childhood, but I was too fucking bleh-no-excuse to continue to know her well as I aged. I don’t know enough about her past, her family, her life; I hate that I left that day without waking her up to get a proper goodbye. After the memorial service, the family took a trip to Rexy’s for some of their famous sausage pizza. I’d been a vegetarian for about two years then (this was nearly four years ago), and I contemplated – hard – about throwing that out for the night and engaging in some meaty action. I stopped myself, though, but I think Grandmom would’ve been okay with that. I really, really miss her and hope she’s got plenty of Busch to keep her company, wherever she is.

In those years, I was trying desperately to keep Laura in my life, so making new friends wasn’t exactly an important task to complete. Of course, I made new ones, but I didn’t let them make too much of an impact on me because I just wanted Laura to stick around. Luckily for me, Ashley was still there when the Laura-Jasmine era ended, and we became pretty inseparable the last few years of high school and in the immediate years following; we walked together at graduation, made fun of the same people together, crushed over boys together (not usually the same ones), fell in love with celebrity gossip together, and eventually kind of became the same person.

There were definitely huge fuck-ups on my part that lead to numerous breakups as time went on. Misunderstandings (that shouldn’t have been at all!), name-calling, and just over-all confusion in the world and my part in it caused me to lash out at the ones closest to me. I can’t even begin to express how incredible fortunate I am that she’s always given me another chance. I mean, I ran out of strikes, but she’s continued to let me bat (we like baseball). Our relationship is nowhere near as completely, relaxedly comfortable as it was when we were in high school, but I’ll just chalk it up to the times as well as the tepidness. We’re both experiencing our own forms of “quarter-life crisis”, as well as a scare with the big C (on Ashley’s part) that’s fine now, but always on the mind. We don’t live minutes from one another anymore and we’re not still trying to form an all-girl pop group (WICKED!), but I know she’s always there if I need her and I hope she knows the same from me.

Collectively, we enjoy the Backstreet Boys, learning Britney Spears dance moves (among many others), chocolate, Spice World, Tracy Morgan (we used to make Saturday Night Live videos – Gemini’s Twin!), and the Philadelphia Phillies and giving the players nicknames that usually involve their celebrity doppelgängers.

Collectively, we do not enjoy … well, most people – including, but not limited to: Pat Burrell (it’s like a hate/we miss him, though-thing), Gwyneth Paltrow (I’m pretty sure?), and, more recently, Justin Bieber. Among many, many more; I’m drawing a total blank. We also dislike most “things”, too. (That people-list doesn’t include the turds we know in real life because that would be too mean, right?)

Ashley is one of the strongest, most forgiving people I know. She’s kind and considerate, despite not receiving the same treatment from others on occasion. She puts every single person on earth before herself, and the second she finally does something she wants to do, everything goes to shit. Universe, I beg you to give the girl a break. I’ll do your laundry for a month, or something, Universe; just please, a break!

(You can also find Ashley on Twitter. I’m just throwing that in there because she’s hilar.)

I haven’t had a chance to properly let go of any animal I’ve had. Whether it was the time my favorite cat on planet earth, Roxanne, was surprise-taken to the shelter when I was in 5th grade; or the time my dad had our first dog, Liebe, put to sleep without telling us about it first; or the time I went to an interview at Kohl’s and came back to find out my stepdad had put our dog, Winslow, “out of his misery”; or the time I brought Frankie to the vet because he was sick and mother came home without him; or the time Screwball went outside one day and just never came back (I searched for him for weeks after) – I haven’t ever gotten to hold my pets and say “I’ll love you forever and I’ll see you soon” before they left me for good.

When things were tough in childhood, Roxanne and Liebe were there to hug and cry with. When living with my mom and stepdad became nearly unbearable, Meeko, Frankie, and Winslow were there to cuddle and make me feel welcome. When I worked long, hard hours at the bookstore (that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true!), Screwball was there to run from the woods as I pulled into the driveway and walk me to the house. Then he’d sit on my lap the rest of the day.

Meeko was teensy-tiny when my stepdad, of all people, brought him home. It was late, raining, and he was a newborn, stranded in the street. He had all kinds of medical problems, but we nursed him back to health. I’ll always remember that first night we had him, though. I was laying on the kitchen floor and he was traipsing through my hair. He was a shy, little guy who didn’t go outside very much (until Frankie died; he became depressed after that and would often stay outside for days at a time). He was part Siamese, so I cleaned his leaky eyes every chance I had to see him. He was big and heavy, but I always welcomed him onto my lap; plenty of times I’d have sleepy-legs by the time he jumped off. He loved headbutting; it wasn’t meant to hurt – he was trying to nuzzle – but his dome was hard as a rock.

I didn’t see him the last time I picked up my mail from mother’s house, but I didn’t think it would be my last chance to. I wish I had more pictures of him. He enjoyed sleeping in my shoes.

The show and characters faded, though, and I had to make it through the remainder of my formative years feeling completely stupid compared to the characters on Dawson’s Creek (which was, like, supposed to be kind of a continuation of a MSCL-type, yes?). We didn’t have that large a vocabulary or deal with the amount of adult things they did (or, at least I didn’t). I was much happier following Buffy around. She was my new Angela Chase. Not necessarily popular, not necessarily a total outcast. She got the guys she wanted, but she felt like a total dummy around them anyway. She was equal parts tough, and vulnerable to the high level of emotion teenagers feel when they’re, you know, teenagers.

But now I’m twenty-five and going through a whole slew of new angst. The quarter-life crisis, if you will (I mean, you did read this, right?). I think from age twenty-three until, I’m guessing (hoping?!?!), thirty, it’s the second round of teenager. Most of us are finished college (oops! on my part) and thrown into this “real world” that is nothing like what we’ve been preparing for. Instead of worrying about failing that geometry midterm (because we’ve been skipping reviews to makeout with Jordan Catalano in the boiler room), we’re worrying about just getting a fucking job we can stand at all. We still have strange and awkward and strained relationships with old friends who we fight to keep in our new lives, no matter if they fit or not, because we just fucking love them. Our parents are still our parents, and we’re not really that grown up at all compared to them.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve talked about everything surrounding Angela Chase and not really her, as a character. I mean, she’s my Ginger, after all, the show isn’t. But the show is her, you know? She narrated (almost) the entire series. It was from her perspective (almost) the entire time. She lived the show, and I lived it along with her (and continue to do so). And, I know she’s not even a natural redhead, but whatever. I’ll allow it.

(I’m really shit at finishing things sometimes, which is why this entry just kind of trails off and turns to nothing. Sorry.)

Ok, so there’s no way I could write a more put-together introductory paragraph about It’s a King Thing than the one written by lead singer, Brian Mietz, on their official website:

It’s a King Thing is from the Haddons, the Hills and the Heights of suburban Philadelphia. Their music can be defined as rock songs with a pop sensibility. Influences include The Lemonheads, the first two Weezer albums, the first two Weston albums and a bunch of tons more. Our band’s songs can beat up your band’s songs.

Please also take a minute to read each member’s bio (on the above website) written by one of the funniest dudes I’m too shy to talk to in person, Nick Minetola. And probably read the other stuff he wrote that is linked there as well. I did a while ago and just did again because.

It’s a King Thing’s new album Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo. is now available for free download on said above website. Give it to anyone and everyone you know that can make them the next New Kids on the Block! | Become a Fan

(I like this picture because it makes her on television, like Martha Stewart or Julia Child.)
Now we leave the block and enter the kitchen, where Jaime bakes things, takes drool-worthy pictures of them, and rubs it in your face on Cream & Sugar Kitchen. No joke, I’ve tried to eat through my computer screen on more than one occasion while browsing the goodies she’s made over these past several months.

But not only does she give you the direction to make these things yourself, she speaks to you on a friendship-type level. She’s also not afraid to get real and quippy on yo’ ass. She writes like she speaks and, being a big fan of that kind of blogging myself (OBVS, Y’ALL), it’s refreshing. Though we live, what?, ten minutes away from one another?, I don’t see her as often as I wish, so I like to think we’re having a conversation through our respective websites.

You can follow her quipping on the daily at her Twitter.

And then we have Ghouls on Film. You may remember me bragging about a girl named Sara back in November and, well, I’m just going to continue to do so here.

She currently writes for Comcast’s Reel News (I wish I could link to just her stories, but you’ll have to scroll through for “SaraC” – or check it all out!), but her true love is horror films. She’s enlisted the help of your very own narrator (and the above Jaime, among other friends) to contribute to the blog as often as they’d like. Thus far, I’ve written two pieces (bloop! bloop!), but please read the rest – add it to your Google Reader, link it on your blog, tell your friends. Let’s make this a big deal, right?!

On top of the above links, you can also find Sara on Twitter (where she helps you find the pieces she wrote by linking to them after she writes them) and as for Ghouls on Film, you can now Become a Fan.

Never forget to check the above “Exit” link to find other people and places I find wonderful, as well!