The school year of 1991-92 Wendy and I lived together in a sterile apartment building in Iowa City. It had three bedrooms, but our dumbfuck friend backed out on us at the last minute so we had to find a new roomate. We placed an ad. Lots of perfectly nice college students responded to the ad. We even interviewed some of these people in person. But, in the end, we decided that the best person to be our new roomate was this 45-year-old schizophrenic bitch named Tamara.

Tamara seemed strangely compelling, because she was, you know, old. Also, she said she hoped to one day get into the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and Wendy and I had that same exact aspiration. How could we not get along?

Within a few days Tamara made it clear that she was the main character from I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. Or, when she wasn’t the main character from that book, she would surprise us with her convincing rendition of Sybil.

Once, she left a note on the fridge that read:

DO NOT LEAV TOILET SEET UP!

I wondered, Why is this note not on the toilet? How am I supposed to remember to not leave the toilet seat up if the note is all the way over here on the fridge?

Another time she left one of those play voodoo dolls out on the kitchen table with pins in certain areas and charming notes, such as one left next to the groin area: MIKE I HOPE YOUR PENIS FALLS OFF!

And yet another time she wrote a note to Wendy calling her fat and deranged. (But which personality was writing this note?)

The most annoying part about Tamara, though, was that she would cook these monstrously huge batches of chili every weekend and stink up the entire apartment. This lady fucking lived on goddamned chili.

One day Wendy and I were home alone and Tamara’s chili was simmering on the stove. And that’s when I got the idea.

Hey Wendy, let’s pull out our pubic hair and put it in Tamara’s chili!

OK!

And that, my friends, is the story of How Tamara’s Chili Got Very Hairy. Tamara moved out about five days later and didn’t pay any of her bills, but it was all so worth it. Mmmmm, yes.

So, would I sound like a dirty old pervert if I confessed that I, at 33 years old, have a crush on Rupert Grint, the kid who plays Ron Weasley in Harry Potter? Because I do. And I know that it’s wrong to have lustful thoughts after a 16 year old. I KNOW it’s creepy to want a boy who was BORN the year I graduated from HS, but have you SEEN him lately? With that shaggy red hair and big old blue eyes? Mm-MMM. If loving him is wrong (and/or illegal) well, throw me in jail because I’d enjoy doing some truly foul things with him. And by foul I mean SEXUAL INTERCOURSE.

What? He’ll be 18 soon.

Next time I get cocky about remembering something that a 2nd grader would be able to remember, I might check to make sure the font is all the same size. I can not even fathom how I fucked THAT up.

I know you all came looking for Wendy, but she’s gone and I’m here so you’re stuck with me. Of course, you aren’t really stuck with me. You’re allowed to just walk away from Wendy’s business until she returns in two weeks, all aglow with the recent thrill of being amongst WRITERS as opposed to fools like me. Also, I’m pretty sure the other people she asked to guest blog (this is my first time BLOGGING, even! I journal! There’s a difference! The difference of course is that I was way too dumb to set up blogger) are smarter, funnier and hotter. You might just want to stop back another time. I’m like the maid discovering the computer in the house and going all batshit on it because I’ve never been allowed to touch one before.

Really, the main reason I’m posting this post about nothing is that I wanted to be first. And so I am! I don’t even have a topic yet. In two weeks, I bet I can cook something up other than Nigerian scam artists, how much work pisses me off, middle aged women in cartoon themed clothes or how much I love my car. Maybe.

Anyhow, here’s my first guest blog post and welcome to me.

Please note: I’m all proud of myself because I remembered how to do a paragraph break in html. I have skills.

Leaving now. Yep. In just a minute. Turning off the computer at work. That’s right. Any moment now.

There may be posts from a couple of guest bloggers. I say “may” because a couple of them have never used Blogger before, and well, who knows what is going to happen. I think you’ll be hearing from Michael, my bestest friend from college and of all time, Dana, sex goddess to Nigerian scam artists, and maybe Doug, if he’s not too busy moving and playing with his Shakira doll. Maybe others. Maybe not. I have no idea what anyone will say.

I will miss you little punks. I know it’s only two weeks, but still.