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Wednesday, January 11, 2012


After publishing the “Teen Solution” blog about putting teenagers in medically induced comas and teaching them everything they needed to know through strategically placed electrodes to their brain, I was talking with a couple friends about co-founding the “Teen Solution Foundation” (TSF).  We would revolutionize the world!  The more we explored the possibilities, the more we realized that if we turned this dream into a reality, the world would memorialize us in song, erect statues of us, and write our names in every history book.  We’d be revolutionaries forever changing society as we know it.  Kids would become more successful, parents would be less stressed, crime would dramatically decrease, the welfare system would be less stretched.  Every talk show in America would want the founders of TSF (being us) on their shows; hell, Opra’d even start a NEW talk show just to have us on it!  We’d be famous.

However, we also realized that there is a cost to fame.  We’d have fans following us everywhere, grateful parents always wanting to thank us for finding a solution to the teen problem, paparazzi at every turn, and even a couple haters now and then.  This of course would require us to have bodyguards…big, strong, handsome, muscled up, could break a neck with two fingers kinda bodyguards.  It would be awful, but such is the price one must pay for fame.  As we start in on the bodyguards, and their break a neck with two fingers requirement, my friend says, “but could you make sure they have ALL their fingers, cause they may have some down time and well…”and that’s how the conversation changed. 

No longer were we talking about revolutionizing the world, but about big strong men with big strong hands and what they could do with them.  I wish I could say that this is a rare thing, but I cannot.  It happens often with us.  The conversation rolled seamlessly from big strong men to the hormones surging through our bodies at this age, to our out of control libidos and the difficulty with being single with these raging hormones. Then my friend, a couple years my senior, drops a bomb shell on me saying, “Oh just wait.  You haven’t seen anything yet.  You haven’t even hit your peak.  Just give it a couple more years.” To which I replied, “Dear Lord, if it gets any worse I’ll be found dead, electrocuted in my bed with no pants!  I mean, batteries are expensive, and if it gets any worse I’ll have no choice but to move to electrically powered, but maybe not so waterproof means of frustration relief.”

As soon as I said it, the mental image which popped into my mind was both horrifying and hilarious at the same time.  I began laughing so hard I was wiping tears, but we knew then what I must do.  I needed to write a letter to keep on my bedside table; a DO NOT OPEN UNLESS…just in case of electrocution, goodbye letter to anyone who may find me in such a compromising position.

So yesterday, I wrote a goodbye letter, complete with a detailed description of the struggle I’ve endured as a single woman in my mid-thirties leading up to my unfortunate electrocution.  I put the letter in a sealed envelope and placed it on my bedside nightstand.  Written on the outside of the envelope is: “DO NOT OPEN UNLESS FOUND ELECTROCUTED.  If found dead of any other cause, please disregard and destroy IMMEDIATELY!” I pray the contents of this letter forever go unread, but in the event I’m found electrocuted with my pants down, I hope my finder will understand.

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