Reality Check(3)

By: Niki Burnham


Jules, Jules, Jules,

First—you used your thesaurus for the "complete, total, all-encompassing" line, didn't you?

Second—the manager? That's disgusting, revolting, nauseating, and all around repulsive. (And no, I didn't need a thesaurus. I'm just that appalled.) Isn't he, like fifty? Wacked is right.

Third—no, no, no. Do not think of pursuing that. That is not what I meant by the Right Guy. That is AGAINST THE LAW.

Fourth—you shouldn't need a fourth. Just. Stop. Quit your job at Wendy's and go to work at Burger King or Subway or something if you really have to. Do whatever it takes so you DON'T GO DOWN THAT ROAD.

Val, off to the bathroom so I can hurl now

P.S.—Christie is worried about you. I told her you're PMS'ing and to leave you alone, but I think you should talk to her. Even if you don't tell her about your abhorrent crush, at least sit with her at lunch or something so she doesn't think she did something wrong. You know how she gets.

P.P.S—Natalie is ready to kick both you and Christie in the head.

* * *

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]



EEEWWWW. You're thinking of the day manager, you moron. The cold weather in Schwerinborg is obviously affecting your reading comprehension skills. And fifty might be an estimate on the young side, since I think Mr. Ansen gets social security. Don't you have to be sixty or seventy for that? That would be so Anna Nicole Smith of me, and without even the hope of inheriting millions of dollars the way she did. And you know what happened to Anna Nicole in the end.

How could you even think that of me?

I'm going to hurl now, too. Mr. Ansen?! Just the image that brings to mind...give me a sec, let me think of something else.

Okay, brain cleared. Back to my original issue: I said I've got it bad for the night manager. Got it? Night. The opposite of day. He started last week. His name is Kyle and he's twenty-three.

I know what you're going to say. Twenty-three is probably still too old for me (he graduated from college last year) but I'm totally fixated on him. He's mind-numbingly hot without being all preppy-cute. He likes all the same music I do and makes all the same jokes about the customers.

Unlike half the guys at Vienna West High School, he actually has some semblance of intelligence (he majored in Economics at the University of Richmond) and he thinks it's wrong that Mr. Ansen gets on my case about the Frosty machine. (You know I'm extra careful about cleaning it, but Mr. A. has a serious stick up his butt about that machine.)

Anyway, get this: I heard Kyle tell one of his friends that he thinks it's sexy if a girl owns combat boots. Which, of course, I do. Not that I can wear them to Wendy's and make him fall to his knees with a serious case of lust, because then I'd be out of uniform and Mr. Ansen would fire my Wendy's black polyester-covered ass, but still.

Part of me wants to go for it, but the smart part of me realizes that Kyle thinks of me as a mere child.

How can I stop thinking about him? How, how, how?

Now you see why I can't say anything to Christie and Natalie. I mean, Nat would probably tell me to go for it, but she would spill the beans to Christie, and Christie would be horrified. Christie still lives in the Leave It To Beaver world where every girl wants to date the neat-o guy with the letter jacket and the crew cut who'll give her a beee-yoo-tiful corsage for prom, and where people have nothing better to do than smile at each other and say "please" and "thank you" all the live-long day.

Any indication that I have a Kyle obsession would give her a total conniption fit.

According to the Official Val Clock I keep by my computer (well, it's really an old alarm clock I swiped from Michael, so let's hope he doesn't notice and rat me out to Mom), it's nearly midnight where you are in Schwerinborg, and it looks like you've signed off your computer for the night, so I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow.


P.S.—I will say something kind to Christie next time I see her so she doesn't think I'm mad at her.

P.P.S.—If Natalie does kick me in the head I pray it's hard enough to stop my fixation on Kyle. However, she should know me well enough to know that I kick back. And I kick harder than she does.