You Deserve a Drink: Boozy Misadventures and Tales of Debauchery by Mamrie Hart Page A

understand the experience and what was going through my brain at the time, the next portion of this chapter will function as a diary entry. Why? Because I was always writing in a diary when I was that age—a Hello Kitty one, to be exact. I was on the Hello Kitty bandwagon
waaay
before everyone else, thanks to an exchange student my mom brought into our house. When I was growing up, my mom was always bringing exchange students to live with us. At any point, there would be an Irish kid or a German teenager in our spare bedroom. I’d like to say it was my mom’s way of helping us to be open-minded and comfortable around other cultures, but I think she just wanted an in-house babysitter. To this day, I can say, “What do you mean I have to watch her?” in five languages.
    Kyoto was my favorite, though—a supercool teenage girl from Japan who stayed with us for a whole year. I loved her, and when she went back to Japan, she would send me Hello Kitty stuff. Every time I got a little package from Kyoto, I was in heaven. I would obsess over my little erasers and notebooks and candies like they were gold. But that Hello Kitty diary was the ultimate import. I thought of it as my confidant, my best friend. Which means either that diary was magical, or I was very lonely. Possibly a little of both.
    All right. Everyone take a moment, do some light stretching, and try to put yourself in the mind-set of a ten-year-old maniac. Can you feel the leggings and puffy-painted sweatshirt? Can you taste the Dunkaroos? Good. You are ready. Open your Hello Kitty diary and begin reading.
    Dear Diary,
    First off, I gotta say sorry for not writing in you for so long. I know I promised that I would write in you every day, but I’ve been so busy with school. And basketball. And building my Jonathan Taylor Thomas shrine. Anyway, allow me to catch you up on a few things since I last wrote. . . . Yes, I’m now in fifth grade. NO, I still haven’t gotten my period. . . .
    Anywho, last night I couldn’t sleep at all. And it wasn’t just because I stayed up late watching “Now and Then.” I swear, every time I see that Devon Sawa I get this tingly feeling in my privates area. Almost like it fell asleep, but trust me, that thing is awake!
    Anywhoozerz. I couldn’t fall asleep because I was too excited. The reason I was so excited is because today I was going to get GLAMOUR SHOTS. That’s right. My first-ever photo shoot! First step, Glamour Shots; second step, Oscar; third step, slapping that smile off Anna Paquin’s face!
    The drive to the mall felt like an eternity, and not just because my mom was listening to a Garth Brooks cassette. My mom let my sister, Annie, come with us. UGH. Annie is so annoying. She’s two years older than me, and she thinks that makes her an adult. Also, she thinks she’s hot shit since she got a water bed. Don’t get me wrong, water beds are crazysexycool, but Annie doesn’t need one. She gets seasick! Oh well, as much as I want to pinch her sometimes, she is my sister and I love her. And I didn’t just write that because I know you are reading this, Annie. Annie, stop reading this!
    We got to the mall an hour early, so I had a little time to hit up my favorite stores. First stop, Candy Express. I needed to pick up a new jumbo Everlasting Gobstopper. They are super popular right now. If you aren’t sucking on an Everlasting Gobstopper the size of a softball, you might as well be invisible. It took me three weeks to get to themiddle of my last one. And when I did, after three weeks of work, want to know what was in the middle? More candy. I thought there would at least be a ruby or some kind of precious gem inside, but nope. Oh well, it was worth it, even though my tongue bled for days and I couldn’t really taste food for a week. Mom said I scraped off my taste buds, and I said, “I did it on purpose—have you tasted your meat loaf?” J/K. Mom’s meat loaf is the shit. Annie, tell Mom I wrote good