09 10 / 2014
Here is my diary entry from my 12th birthday, in 1992:
Today is my 34th birthday. Some things are the same and some are different. When I turned 12, I ate 2 big muffins and my brother gave me 5 dollars. When I turned 34, I ate zero muffins and my brother gave me zero dollars. On the other hand, I will spend my 34th birthday very much the same as I spent my 12th birthday: eating desserts all day.
In addition to the thoughtful gift of 5 dollars, here is the carefully crafted card my 13 year-old brother made me:
Thank goodness he signed his full name so I knew which Tom it was.
Side note: There’s nothing as sobering as reading an old age joke written by a 13 year-old when you are turning 34.
01 10 / 2014
Last night I took a break from my sophisticated evening of watching Disappeared on Netflix to watch the Kansas City Royals play the Oakland A’s in their final chance to make the playoffs. The last time the Royals made the playoffs was 1985. I’m not a huge sports fan, but I figured I wouldn’t have this opportunity again until I was a senior citizen.
Growing up in Nebraska, the Kansas City Royals were the closest thing we had to a professional sports team. My brother Tom has always been a huge fan. In 1985, when the Royals were in the World Series, Tom was 6. He spent hours crafting an intricate poster-sized collage of newspaper headlines detailing the Royals’ progress in the series. It hung in his room until he left for college in 1998 (next to his Bo Jackson and George Brett posters).
Despite the Royals being one of the worst teams in the league for the last two decades, Tom has been a diehard fan. He watches every game on TV and makes the 4 hour trek to KC multiple times every summer to catch the Royals live. In the early 90’s, he proudly wore a Royals Starter jacket while everyone else wore Chicago Bulls jackets - a team that was actually good.
Family vacations were planned around visiting baseball parks. I’ve yet to make it to Mount Rushmore or the Grand Canyon, but I’ve been to almost every major league baseball park in the country.
Between our annual vacations, we’d make do with the shorter drive to Omaha to see the minor league team the Omaha Royals.
The thing is, I don’t like baseball. I’ve always found it pretty boring. I’d watch the innings pass as I strategically waited an acceptable amount of time to ask if I could go get another snack from the concession stands. My favorite was the chocolate malts you ate with a wooden stick. The next best was cotton candy. And in the early ’90s, when Dippin’ Dots appeared on the scene, my mind was pretty much blown. Maybe baseball wasn’t so bad after all.
So last night I decided to sit through the Royals game. (Obviously, I ate ice cream while I watched). And I found myself actually getting into it. It was an incredible 12 inning game with the Royals making an insane comeback. I kept thinking about Tom sitting at home watching and undoubtedly freaking out.
Two weeks ago Tom and his wife Lisa had their first child. Last night his daughter was, no doubt, clad in a Royals onesie, a doll-sized Royals baseball hat…and baby cleats and blue face paint, for good measure. After the game, I texted Tom to get his reaction (and make sure he hadn’t suffered a heart attack). He replied, “I cannot describe how I feel right now!” I then asked him if this was better than the birth of his daughter. He paused for longer than he should have. He eventually replied, “Not quite. But close.”
17 9 / 2014
Like most early ’90s preteens, I was obsessed with boys, 90210, and…stamp collecting.
12 9 / 2014
As I have mentioned previously, my mom was a travel agent during my preteen years. One perk of this job meant a family vacation to Cancun when my siblings and I were 11, 12 and 13 years old. It was our first time out of the country and we were quickly immersed in the many cultural and international wonders that Cancun had to offer: a closed down shopping mall, McDonald’s, Planet Hollywood, and the esteemed Señor Frogs.
The following is an excerpt from my school journal detailing this educational trip.
03 9 / 2014
Susannah has been my best friend since we were in third grade. We became fast friends after she taught me how to draw cats during indoor recess.
Susannah notes, “From the years 1990 through 1993, I kept one one-year diary. I wrote in it thirteen times. Instead, I chose to explore my budding sense of preteen self through fiction. I’d write half page upon half page of first half pages. I toyed with every genre: from mystery to family drama to medieval fantasy. And then, one afternoon in the summer of ‘93, I tried my hand at erotic fiction:”
"I have no idea what I thought was actually happening during those five minutes of nudity, but I’m pretty certain that the blouse unbuttoning was directly inspired by the sex scene in the movie Big. I should also add that this manuscript was rediscovered in a folder of my early writing all collected by my mother. Somehow, I’d rather she had found my diary.”
Here’s a picture of twelve year-old Susannah in the dawn of her career as a romance novelist:
Susannah Bohlke is a Nebraska-born, Brooklyn-based comedy writer. She is a writer for the PITtv house team Waterbirth. In her free time, Susannah posts ponchos with captions on her blog theponchos.com.
27 8 / 2014
On January 14, 1991, I put on my best waiter outfit and then took a trip to the movies to see the scariest thing I’d seen since The ‘Burbs.
19 8 / 2014
Like many preteens of the early ’90s, I was obsessed with young adult books about kidnapping. From The Face on the Milk Carton to Missing Since Monday, I couldn’t get enough. This might explain why as an adult, there’s nothing I love more than 48 Hours Mystery.
I found this book report in my fifth grade journal about one of these chilling books, innocently titled: Babysitting is a Dangerous Job. This might be why I never really sought out babysitting as a part-time job.
Thank goodness I included that what the kidnapped children had for dinner.
14 8 / 2014
From ages eight to twelve I pretty much lived in a pair of roller skates. I would spent hours in our unfinished basement skating in circles while blasting En Vogue. The only things getting me out of my skates this day were a nice chowder and the latest Fred Savage blockbuster.
Such a great day could only be complete with best international cuisine Lincoln had to offer: my mom’s famous “Anchowlotas.”