Stationery Queen, age 13, part 1
Stationery Queen has the following to say, so listen up:
Janet has graciously let me be a guest blogger here at AOGB. And so, I give you one of my favorite posts from my site, Staples and Paper Clips.
With all my supplies laid out in front of me, I was ready to begin my assault:
1,000 labels in a variety of rainbow colors
1 blue Bic Stic pen
25 3x5 white post office-issued postcards, with postage already
imprinted
Scotch tape
markers
I carefully wrote the address to the recipient on the front of each card, then turned it over. Lick, lick, lick, 25 times, the pink, blue, yellow and white labels with my name and address. I secured them with tape, just in case the lick 'n' stick failed. I wrote my telephone number underneath and decorated around the labels with markers and
squiggly lines- anything to stand out: "#1 Fan"... "Please pick me!"
"I have to get more cards," I said out loud. "Daaaaaaaaaddy... Can you stop at the post office today?"
He did.
And I wrote 50 more. Those tickets would be mine. My first concert ever.
Me, 2,000 of my closest friends, and the best band of all time.
Rob, Eric, Andy, David and John. The Hooters.
For weeks, the DJs picked a name, every hour on the hour.
For weeks, it wasn't mine.
Then one day, while busying myself in my room, as much as one could with a boom box attached to her head waiting for her name to be called, the unthinkable happened. They called my name. "Stationery Queen of Philadelphia, you have 9.8 minutes to call to claim your Hooters/98 CRAP-FM anniversary party tickets."
OH.
MY.
GOD!!!!!
I picked up the phone with my shaky right hand. My 15-year-old brother was wooing his latest conquest. "J., get off the phone!" I screamed in his ear. "They called my name on the radio and I MUST CALL." Unlike his usual tortuous brotherly behavior, he obliged, quickly, and I began to dial.
"98 CRAP-FM," a voice said when the ringing stopped.
"This is Stationery Queen," I said, panting into the phone. "You just called my name."
"OK, Stationery Queen, tell us your name and address and telephone number," the deep, booming radio voice said.
For a split second, I drew a blank. Where do I live? What's my name
even? OK. Breathe.
I rattled off the information.
"Congratulations. You just won two tickets to see The Hooters on November 4!"
"YAAAAAAY!" I screamed and started jumping up and down.
"Wait!" he said. "Get excited in a minute. I have to tape this to play on the air."
I waited.
The booming voice became a caricature of itself, kind of like Jimmy Fallon's radio "And we're baaaaaack" guy on Saturday Night Live – nasally, his voice over-accentuated, fake.
"Hey, Stationery Queen, thanks for calling in. You've won two tickets to see The Hooters."
"Yaaaay!" I half-screamed and bounced up and down on my toes twice. Some moments just can't be recaptured.
After I hung up the phone, I screamed at the top of my lungs, to no one in particular, "I WON!!!!!" and did a happy dance. I flew down the two flights of steps to wait for my parents to return from the mall. I sat on the bench in our cement back yard, bouncing my legs up and down. I could not sit still. 75 postcards and a lot of happy thoughts was all it took to get me to my first concert of all time FOR FREE. I only got two tickets, and I had two best friends… Who on earth would I take?
Decisions, decisions.
MMc. was my bestest friend, but JB would really want to go. I grilled her on facts about the Hooters daily and just about beat her into submission and into acknowledging they were the best band of all time. Should I choose her for that? Or choose MMc because I knew her longer?
"Why don't you take your brother?" my mom said.
Ewwwww, I thought, and my look apparently said the same.
"Take J. and tell your friends that I made you," she said. "They can be mad at me."
I thought about her plan. It made sense. And J. could be fun when he wasn't pulling my hair or calling me names.
"OK," I said.
And I did.
J. took more than 100 pictures. I stood on my seat and had a ball for the two hours the band played.
And I danced, and danced and danced...
This message brought to you by an early morning DJ who played "And
We Danced" on the way to work.
Thanks, Janet, for letting me post my drivel for your readers. Happy
Fall everyone!!!
Janet has graciously let me be a guest blogger here at AOGB. And so, I give you one of my favorite posts from my site, Staples and Paper Clips.
With all my supplies laid out in front of me, I was ready to begin my assault:
1,000 labels in a variety of rainbow colors
1 blue Bic Stic pen
25 3x5 white post office-issued postcards, with postage already
imprinted
Scotch tape
markers
I carefully wrote the address to the recipient on the front of each card, then turned it over. Lick, lick, lick, 25 times, the pink, blue, yellow and white labels with my name and address. I secured them with tape, just in case the lick 'n' stick failed. I wrote my telephone number underneath and decorated around the labels with markers and
squiggly lines- anything to stand out: "#1 Fan"... "Please pick me!"
"I have to get more cards," I said out loud. "Daaaaaaaaaddy... Can you stop at the post office today?"
He did.
And I wrote 50 more. Those tickets would be mine. My first concert ever.
Me, 2,000 of my closest friends, and the best band of all time.
Rob, Eric, Andy, David and John. The Hooters.
For weeks, the DJs picked a name, every hour on the hour.
For weeks, it wasn't mine.
Then one day, while busying myself in my room, as much as one could with a boom box attached to her head waiting for her name to be called, the unthinkable happened. They called my name. "Stationery Queen of Philadelphia, you have 9.8 minutes to call to claim your Hooters/98 CRAP-FM anniversary party tickets."
OH.
MY.
GOD!!!!!
I picked up the phone with my shaky right hand. My 15-year-old brother was wooing his latest conquest. "J., get off the phone!" I screamed in his ear. "They called my name on the radio and I MUST CALL." Unlike his usual tortuous brotherly behavior, he obliged, quickly, and I began to dial.
"98 CRAP-FM," a voice said when the ringing stopped.
"This is Stationery Queen," I said, panting into the phone. "You just called my name."
"OK, Stationery Queen, tell us your name and address and telephone number," the deep, booming radio voice said.
For a split second, I drew a blank. Where do I live? What's my name
even? OK. Breathe.
I rattled off the information.
"Congratulations. You just won two tickets to see The Hooters on November 4!"
"YAAAAAAY!" I screamed and started jumping up and down.
"Wait!" he said. "Get excited in a minute. I have to tape this to play on the air."
I waited.
The booming voice became a caricature of itself, kind of like Jimmy Fallon's radio "And we're baaaaaack" guy on Saturday Night Live – nasally, his voice over-accentuated, fake.
"Hey, Stationery Queen, thanks for calling in. You've won two tickets to see The Hooters."
"Yaaaay!" I half-screamed and bounced up and down on my toes twice. Some moments just can't be recaptured.
After I hung up the phone, I screamed at the top of my lungs, to no one in particular, "I WON!!!!!" and did a happy dance. I flew down the two flights of steps to wait for my parents to return from the mall. I sat on the bench in our cement back yard, bouncing my legs up and down. I could not sit still. 75 postcards and a lot of happy thoughts was all it took to get me to my first concert of all time FOR FREE. I only got two tickets, and I had two best friends… Who on earth would I take?
Decisions, decisions.
MMc. was my bestest friend, but JB would really want to go. I grilled her on facts about the Hooters daily and just about beat her into submission and into acknowledging they were the best band of all time. Should I choose her for that? Or choose MMc because I knew her longer?
"Why don't you take your brother?" my mom said.
Ewwwww, I thought, and my look apparently said the same.
"Take J. and tell your friends that I made you," she said. "They can be mad at me."
I thought about her plan. It made sense. And J. could be fun when he wasn't pulling my hair or calling me names.
"OK," I said.
And I did.
J. took more than 100 pictures. I stood on my seat and had a ball for the two hours the band played.
And I danced, and danced and danced...
This message brought to you by an early morning DJ who played "And
We Danced" on the way to work.
Thanks, Janet, for letting me post my drivel for your readers. Happy
Fall everyone!!!
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