For months I had been looking forward to writing for the school newspaper. I had this fantasy in my head about the whole thing, actually.
"Natasha! Your article is so funny we had to put it on the front page along with you picture and mini-bio!"
"Natasha! Your article is so funny we decided to ditch the whole "school newspaper" idea and go with...NATASHA NEWS, featuring things only written by you!"
"Natasha! Your article is so funny we decided that you don't even need to graduate from this hell hole! Get outta town with this ticket to California and make millions writing with people like Lorne Michaels and Larry David!"
"Natasha! Your article is so funny I want you to marry me right now and make millions of babies with me! I can't live without your charming wit, your dazzling sense of humor, or your bodaciously smokin' bod."
-Hugh Jackman, who would indeed appear at my school with a bouquet of roses after hearing about my debut article
These were realistic scenarios, were they not? People like my blog, people think I'm funny, Jackman would agree to walking around my house naked from noon till six free of charge. I mean, right? Not only did I know how people would react to my article, I knew that I would write something new and fresh for my fellow peers. That's right, no material taken from my blog. Something no one had ever seen BEFORE. I SACRIFICED here, people. I went out ON A LIMB here, people. And that just made it even better, because after e-mailing (we haven't quite gotten to texting our articles, yet. one day, I'm sure.) my article to the "Senior Editor," who told me it was hilarious, (ego boost), who told me it was great for the newspaper (moral boost), who told me it made her crack up (confidence boost), had the nerve to maliciously twist my article into something that was not only new and fresh to my peers, but new and fresh to ME. (you better run, bitch boost) So what do I get? What do I see when the newspaper FINALLY comes out after MONTHS of "editing" and "formatting" and "procrastinating?" I get a fireman jumping out of a birthday cake dancing to "Macho Man" and getting all up in your mom's grill as well as other places, which instead of horrifying her seems to be delighting her and you sit there not knowing if you should call the cops or just go ahead and hire a stripper-cop to make it even. I get a surprise. A BAD SURPRISE.
"I have copies of the newspaper on my desk for those of you who would like a copy."
Now in my fantasy, upon hearing these words, everyone would leap from their seats and stampede over to the newspapers, punching each other out of the way screaming things like, "But I've been waiting for this day!" and "I thought this day would never come!" and "What a day, what a glorious day!" and other things with the word 'day' in them that are positive.
"I guess I'll get one."
The one student who got up and got one couldn't even admit that they really wanted a copy.
That one student was me.
As I sit reading the paper, not really reading it but just pretending to while really looking up to see if anyone is going to get a paper, I try to devise ways to persuade others to get one. I could A) laugh really loud and obnoxiously at an article on the the same page as mine...
B) continue to gasp over and over while muttering common phrases of surprise
GASP! I just can't believe it...GASP! Who would have thought...GASP! This can't be real...GASP!...GASP!...GASP!
or C) act like it sucks. Teenagers tend to be cynical little bastards, if you didn't already know.
"Who writes for this piece of shit, man? I could have shit these articles out my ass, dude! My grandma's farts are more interesting than this!"
Yeah. That would probably get their attention. Especially the word "fart." That's a shoe-in. But thank da lawd I didn't do any of these things, for it was at about that time that I actually had the nerve to turn to my own article.
(That one was real.) They had changed my article completely. Not only had they taken out words, they had taken out entire PARAGRAPHS. They had taken out various allusions. What's wrong with saying "Straight outta Compton?" What's wrong with saying, "sexy leg?" What's wrong with saying, "pothead professor?" (which they had changed to "crazy professor," as if 'crazy' is a synonym for 'pothead.' As if pot makes people 'crazy.' Just goes to show the naive sheltered dimwits that edit the newspaper. (aka GEEKS) (aka NERDS) (aka NUMBNUTS) My article had been turned into an appropriate for school-fair to all-non stereotypical-PG-piece of SHIT, and I was furious. Many thoughts came into my head to fix the problem, such as...
A) impregnate the senior editor (not by ME you fool)
B) shoot the senior editor up with heroin
C) shove the school newspaper up the senior editor's ass and give her ink poisoning
D) other cruel and unusual punishments involving the senior editor that have to do with things nerds, geeks, and numbnuts are against (sex. drugs. shoving things up peoples asses against their will)
But until then, I guess I have to grin and bear it. All I know is I am NEVER writing for the school newspaper again, vengeance IS sweet, and if I wasn't too busy blogging I would actually have time to think OF a sweet revenge. Any suggestions?