Fact: In 4th grade, my mom bought me a Snoopy diary at the Hallmark store. Snoopy had a speech bubble that said "No Snooping!" The diary had a combination lock, so I felt that the warning, while a clever pun, was a bit redundant. I mean, seriously? If you want to read the inner-workings of a nine-year-old's mind badly enough to bust the lock off, you're probably snooping in more places than her diary, if you know what I'm saying. But nobody ever molested me, or my diary.
Unless you count me. No, I didn't molest myself, but I can't say the same for my diary. I wanted a diary because I wanted to be like Anne Frank (that whole Jew thing again). I knew that Anne Frank named her diary. Kitty. I thought that was way lame, but like, millions of people read her diary so she must have been doing something right. My nine-year-old brain didn't stop to consider that she was also totally dead from the Holocaust- the key to her fame was clearly giving her diary a name.
So I named my diary. What did I name it? Flamhomo. Swear. To. God. I was nine years old and my Snoopy diary was my gay best friend. Now I blog, and a few dozen people read it, and I have real, live gay friends. Just goes to show you how powerful a little girl's dreams can be.
awesome... nuff said
ReplyDeleteDoes Flamhorno still exist? I am trying to imagine the letters to Flamhorno...
ReplyDeleteI named my diaries too, for several years. The first one was a Hello Kitty diary named Primrose Zelda Diary. So you are not alone. At least your name was funny; mine was floral.
Thanks! Yes, it does still exist, at least I think so. I left it in my sock drawer when I moved out of my mom's house so she may or may not have found it and tried to pry it open despite the dire warning on the cover. There are only about 15 entries, but they're pretty golden. There's one about going to the movies to see Weekend at Bernies 2. And any name with 'Zelda' in it is a sick appellation for a diary, or anything, for that matter.
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