From: Jamie [jamie @ohlookabutterfly.com]
Subject: Recent Events
To: My Fairy Godmother [fairy_godmother @ifuckinghateyousometimes.com]

Dear Fairy Godmother,

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing to you now, when I haven’t written to you since I was six and really, really wanted to be able to ride my bike without training wheels (by the way, that skinned knee? Fantastic job).

Now, for you to understand why I’m writing this email (times have changed since I was six and I’ve lost your snail-mail address), let us take stock of the recent events that have transpired in my life.

1. I come down with some sort of freak illness that no one can diagnose. This freak illness also comes with headaches as an added bonus.
2. Those headaches mentioned in number one? They weren’t caused by the illness. The illness was just a red herring that threw off diagnostics for months. Good one, mate. The doctors found that one knee-slapping as well.
3. During a span of days when I felt well enough to be my normal self, I go fencing. While fencing, I get hit in the AC joint (you know, statistically, I shouldn’t even have gotten hit there the first time. you’re damn good at beating the odds).
4. Things are finally starting to look up. The headaches have decreased in frequency so that only once a week I’m laid out by a monster headache that’s not a migraine. Go lay down during the headache to make myself feel better, you say? It won’t help. It will only make me have a headache and be bored. Nonetheless, I think things are getting better. But ooooh, you trickster, you.
5. Feeling better and halfway through a regimen of methylprolone (that’s steroids to you non-medical people), a regimen, by the way, that was without side effects (I know, I was just as surprised as the rest of you), I go forth with nathan and my sister to snowboard for the first time this season. The first run was beautiful. Swish, swish, swish, carving down the mountain. We go up for a second run. Getting off the lift, the boy stops one foot from where the chair drops you off, and my sister and I crash into him and we slide down the tiny lift-hill in a tangled heap of limbs, boards, and bodies. My right hand (because we just like to pretend I don’t have a left one, don’t we?) gets caught in nathan’s binding, twisted, and then shoved back toward my shoulder socket. Once we’ve all finally righted ourselves, I can barely use my right arm. Right On.
6. So now I just need to get back down the mountain without falling onto my right shoulder and I’ll be fine. Now, I manage to do just that. However, in twisting my body during a fall when my dull-edged board lost traction on some ice on the slope, I at once avoided landing on my right shoulder and instead, managed to land nicely on my left elbow. Now I have two arms that are useless. You just couldn’t have it all on one arm, could you? But I understand, it’s much more amusing this way.
7. I ice the shoulder and elbow when I get home. My shoulder feels decent when compared to what I thought it should be, it’s the elbow that’s more concerning. Two days later, the elbow is nearly back to normal and my shoulder refuses to work properly. Ha! You managed to get my hopes up, there. You’re just too damn good at this.
8. Physical therapist says that the joint is more unstable, much more swollen, and my range of motion is significantly diminished from my last evaluation (which was, by the way, the week before). Physical therapist says to call doc.
9. Call doc. Doc orders x-ray. I go and get my x-ray.
10. Driving home from said x-ray, I am munching away on a Pria bar, and I hear a crunch. Not a “You’ve bitten into a soy crisp” crunch, but a “This sort of crunch should not happen in your mouth” crunch. Further inspection reveals that I have broken a tooth. What’s that you say? I broke a tooth? Yes. I broke a fucking tooth.

Now, let’s take a look at your job description.

Fairy Godmother—

noun

1. a generous benefactor
2. a female character is some fairy stories who has magical powers and can bring unexpected good fortune to the hero or heroine

—from dictionary.com

While you have been generous, you have not been a benefactor.

While you have magical powers, you have not brought unexpected good fortune to the heroine (e.g. me).

In fact, you’ve continuously brought unexpected bad fortune to the heroine.

As such, you have not fulfilled your duties as my fairy godmother. Effective this date, you are hereby terminated from your position as my fairy godmother.

Best Regards,
Jamie
Your Former Fairy Godchild

well, an addition. here’s how it happened—

Sarah IMs me: www.thebricktestament.com
me: Seen it! Be more original!
Sarah: www.ifuckinghateyousometimes.com

…pwned.

however, the domain wasn’t registered. now it is. I own it. it’ll have many many photos of folks giving the bird.

a snippet of a conversation with sam—

Sam: “He’s just a guy. They really have no idea. You shoulda gone for chicks!”
Me: “Except boobies are boring.”
Sam: “You just aren’t looking at them right.”
Me: “And I really am attracted to the male body.”
Sam: “I know. Your one big flaw.”

This, ladies and gentlemen, is true herosim.

I finished reading Stephen King’s Cell yesterday. It had the makeup of something I would fantastically love—an apocalyptic zombie novel. Not only were there apocalyptic zombies, but the zombies are made by cell phones.

I fell instantly in love. Zombies! Apocalypse! Evil cell phones! (Even now, I’m very apprehensive about answer my cell phone. Not that I wasn’t apprehensive before, but now it’s gotten even worse. My friends now hate Stephen King).

I read. And I read and read and read, the book was really a page-turner (the sort of book that can wrangle my ADHD attention span for long lengths of time). It developed well, it was eerie, suspenseful. For me, it also had an added element of familiarity with the setting. That made it even more creepy (the creepiest moment for me in a King novel was when he once wrote something about going to the theatre in Conway, NH. Holy shit, I’ve been there!)

And so I loved it… all the way up until yesterday around 11:53 a.m.

You see, that’s when I got to the end. Only, it didn’t seem like the end. It seemed like a chapter end, yes. The kind of end where you say to yourself, “Self, let us continue on to the next chapter.”

And then you (and Self) notice that there’s his traditional tagline-ish endnote. You know the one (if you ever read any of his novels, which I do recommend) where he gives the date and place of where and when he finished the novel.

I felt lied to. “You are not done! I will turn the page and there will be another chapter!”

And there was another chapter… for another book. One of those previews of books to come.

But I will never know what happened with Clay and his son Johnny and their compatriots left in the northern unnamed counties of Maine. This makes me sad because I figured Cell to be a multi-time read. I’ve got several of novels that I’ve read multiple times—Ender’s Game, The Stand, An Unquiet Mind… the list honestly goes on and on. But Cell won’t be on that list because it’s promise is broken at the end. The story doesn’t finish. It ends in practically mid-sentence, as if your lover was shot in the middle of saying “I lo—”

Nathan looks over from his computer toward Marissa and me and says, “I killed myself.” He then takes a bite of his pizza.
 
I reply, “You seem to be doing rather well for being dead.”

—Nathan, while playing Call of Duty 2

“No! No! I’ve already been to hell twice today, I don’t want to go again!”

—Nathan, while playing Oblivion