You can lay next to my Nantenna, enna, enna, ay, ay, ay...

Nana's Nigerian Nurse and my dog Juanita are having some kind of Mexican standoff in the kitchen.

"Blink!...Blink!...I say blink now! You will blink!!" she tells Juanita, shaking a finger in her face. Nana's Nigerian Nurse believes Juanita's failure to blink constitutes a direct threat and that this subversive non-blinking behavior must be eradicated, lest she become feral.

Juanita finally blinks, and Nana's Nigerian Nurse rewards her by poking her in the neck with a carrot, then inviting her to Lake Tahoe for a mani/pedi.

I'm only half listening to this, because I'm busy walking around my mom's kitchen with my laptop balanced on the palm of my hand, trying to find a wireless signal. There's one bar, if I stand by the front door. The second bar flickers as I follow Nana's motorized stair seat up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, my brother and his laptop are pressed up against Nana's bedroom door.

Jack: (whispering) It's in there, there's a signal in there!

Me: Well, knock on the door! Go in!

Jack: *ick face* I don't wanna.

Nana, from the other side of the door: COUGH! CROUKGH! KHRACKKAGHHHHY!!

Me: Ew.

Jack: Yeah.

Me: Knock.

Jack: You do it.

Me: You.

Jack: You.

Me: (knocks on door and ducks behind the corner)

Jack: Wha...you ASSHOLE!!

Nana: Mmmmmnnnhrrrr. Ehhhh? Ehhhhh! Mmmin!

Jack: Fuck.

Jack opens the door and walks in, as I crawl back to the open door and lay down on my stomach in the doorway with the laptop peeking around the corner. Two bars.

Jack: (yelling) HI NANA, YOU'RE LOOKING GOOD TODAY!!

Me: (chin on hand, confirming facebook friends, updating status, twirling hair)

Jack: HOW ARE YOU FEELING TODAY, NANA?

Nana: Rrrrrroooohh...

Me: (wireless disappears, reappears, flickers, one bar, no bars, one bar...) Oh no! EFF! Psst, Jack! It's spotty out here! How many bars you got in there?

Jack: (whispering) Um...I have 'bout this many *middle finger* bars, shithead!

Me: So...one? One bar? Jack?

I shimmy on my belly into the room and reopen my laptop next to her bed. Three bars.

Me: (whispering) Jack! I think the router's behind her bed! I'm gonna sit down in bed with her, but I need you to introduce me before I stand up, so I don't scare her.

Jack: Introduce you? Um, what? Should I sound a trumpet, perhaps?

Me: No, are you kidding? Way too loud, it would kill her. Maybe just go "Ber-berberBERRRR!" with your fist on your mouth, and say "I now present...your granddaughter BECKY!"

Jack: Ah...no.

Me: Well, I can't just stand up, that would be weird. She'd know I was lying on the floor next to the bed.

Jack: Maybe just rise up really slow with your arms out, like an angel.

Me: Or maybe I can do that pretend climbing up the stairs thing? That's always a hit.

Jack: You don't have the leg strength, you know that. You tried that for the nieces and nephews at Christmas, got halfway up the "stairs" before your legs gave out and you collapsed behind the couch. Scared them to death.

Me: Yes, but first of all? I'm not drunk right now. Second? Nana's not a crybaby bitch like some toddlers I know. Okay, whatever, I'm tired of this. Engage diversionary tactic. Heads up.

I fling my shoe across the room. Jack ducks, Nana turns at the sound of the shoe knocking over a lamp, and I plop into bed next to her.

Me: Well, what in God's name is all that commotion? Heavens to Betsy, am I right, Nana? *Opens laptop*

Jack: How's the reception?

Me: Pretty good. Preeetttty good, could be better. Nana? Nana? Could you lift your arm for me? Nana?

Jack: What're you doing?

Me: Physical therapy. Jack, hand me that spoon. Nana? Nana? Nana, hold onto this spoon, and LIFT it up HIGH! Stretch! Reach to the sky, Nana! Jesus wants his spoon back!

Jack: Oh my God. You're using our 103 year-old Nana as an antenna. You're going to hell.

Me: Four bars.

Jack: Scootch over.

Asshole Me rips Asshole Me a new asshole

While sorting through and throwing out all the treasures* I haphazardly packed away in a storage space two years ago, I came upon a little Post-it pad with the word, "Private" written all over it, tucked into a plastic Crayola marker bag. On the first page of the pad was the title: ABOUT ALL 4th GRADE!! and on the Post-its beneath it were my observations about my classmates, written all tiny and secretive.

I love this little Post-it pad artifact, because it shows that even little kids can be assholes. And asshole kids rank up there with inappropriate boners and puttery fart noises on my personal list of funniest things in the world. (As long as the kids aren't assholes to me, because I get hurt feelings.)

Word for word, here's what it says in the private Post-it pad:

Jenny K. is a pretty nice girl. Craig used to like her before she was fat.

Leslie is a pest and picks her nose.

Amy does all these things with boys. She once went into the boys bathroom and stripped. She is discusting.

Katie is so bossy. She thinks she is queen of the world.

Kristina's legs wobble and she is very dumb. She went naked with a boy on our block named Johnny. She took a bath with him because they loved each other. The boy was from Lebanon. Then they got out of the bath and started necking ect...ect... Kristina is discusting. Nice bangs.

Amy E. shows everyone her underwear.

My mom hates me. I know it.

Peggy is nice. I have never been in a fight with her in my whole life.

Brian sucks his elbow and his knee.

Kristina screams a lot, which is dum.

Jason acts like a girl and is very shrimpy but I sort of like him. Very nice not like the rest of the boys.

Jimmy spits in people's eyes by accident and has a very boring life.

Catherine braggs about her home and whenever she is proud of something she puts her eyelids down.

Amy is very clumsy and shows off her haircut.

Kristina has very fat legs. She runs wierd.

Brian is jerky. Andrea tries to defend him just because he gave her a Jolly Rancher candy. He snezzes on everyone and braggs about his lunch witch has: (always) 2 fruit roll ups, 1 pack of cookies, 2 packs of chips, and 1 sandwicth. [Crying jealous sad face]

Jennifer thinks she is queen. Katie is so bossy. She thinks she is queen.

David picks his nose. I just saw.

John A. always calls people nitwit.

I wonder if Jesus was fat?

Todd is stupid, dum, and a robber. He stole lots of things from me and he is a ping pong head.

Craig picks his nose but I still like him because he gave me a baseball glove.

The only thing better than asshole kids is being an asshole back to asshole kids. This rule applies even if both assholes are me. Plus, Kid Me really needs to be taken down a few notches:

Dear 4th grade Becky,

How am I? You are fine. I really enjoyed your in-depth and keenly discerning analysis of your 4th grade class. Some constructive feedback...

1) Jenny is the class fatass, it's true. But guess who's running a close second? That's right, Chubbo. I wouldn't be so quick to throw around the "f" word, because it's flying right backatcha like a boomerang at the rate you're going. Fun Fact: Thomas' English Muffins are not to be used as a vehicle for ingesting as much melted butter as possible. You've got about half a stick hiding in those delicious nooks and crannies, and I'm here to tell you that come 5th grade, you'll be butter's bitch.

2) David picks his nose? Really. Tell me, little one, who else picks their nose that you know? Jenny? Yes, that's right, but who else? Don't look away...you know who. That's right, you do. And you know what else? I bet David doesn't have a booger wall. But who does? That's right. You do. It's your booger wall. No, don't be ashamed, you've worked really hard on it. Show the people. Show the nice readers the 4 foot by 6 foot "mural" above your bed. Crumbly ones, fresh ones, sticky and smeary, twiggy and goopy, it's all there. Good work, Becky.

3) Nobody at your school has ever stripped in the bathroom, so just give it up. You know you just wrote that because you wish you could strip for someone. I don't know what your deal is with stripping, but get this: NOBODY wants to see you strip. Not one fucking person wants to see your little swollen not-even-almost-boobs peering over your fat white kid-belly. Trust me on this. (On a related note, Little Miss Tassles McBooby, if you remember this, please remind yourself in December 1998 to get down off the table at your holiday party. That doesn't end well.)

4) Your friend Kristina? The "screamer" with the "wobbly legs" who "runs weird"? How is it that you're the only person who can't see that the girl has severe developmental disabilities, and that you should stop coaxing her into your dad's car to come home for impromptu playdates every day, because even though she lets you be the boss of her and she laughs at your jokes and always lets you be Daphne when you guys play Scooby Doo, her grandma has her hands full even without the daily kidnappings. Give the woman a break and stop stuffing Kristina into your backseat after school. Oh, and all those "wobbly legs" comments you're writing? Karma's a bitch, is all I'm going to say about that.

5) You wonder if Jesus was fat? Really, do you? Did they have Thomas' English Muffins back in 25 AD, you think? Why don't you just cool it with the bizarre questions about Jesus all the time. Maybe he was fat, maybe he wasn't. Same applies to whether he was black, gay, a midget, gossipy, hairy, sensitive, show-offy, allergic, or Chinese. You're embarrassing yourself, and the nuns are starting to talk.

Regards,

You, only better

*Treasures = one training bra, several old decaying teeth, a battery-operated dancing rat that sings Achey Breaky Heart in Spanish, movie stubs (Doc Hollywood, Postcards From the Edge, Howard the Duck, Back to the Future 3, Dying Young, etc.). You know, just regular treasures. Totally worth two years of storage fees.