I’m Sorry, But The Kid Needs To Know The Truth

Well hello there, Jaynella Bijou!

I received a text today informing me of your birth.  Welcome to the world!  Now, your parents have asked all of their friends and loved ones to write you a letter.  A few pearls of wisdom, if you will, to help you along the road of life.  I’m sure you’ll receive lots of eye rolling, vomit inducing schmaltz such as “Follow your passion!” and “Stay true to yourself!” and “Always remember, you’re beautiful just the way you are!”  Yes, well, I’m not the schmaltzy type.  I’m the tell-it-like-it-is type, but can call me Aunt Hannah.

You need to know the truth, otherwise the world will eat you alive.  I’ll start with your parents.  First up: your mother.  That woman is a liar, a thief, and a total drama queen.

When I was eight years old, I had the hugest crush on Donnie Wahlberg.  Yes, that Donnie Wahlberg, the mediocre actor; only back then he was a mediocre pop star in a boy band called News Kids on the Block.  I loved Donnie Wahlberg more than I loved Fruit Loops, and in a few years when you’re old enough to eat cereal yourself, you’ll understand just how serious of a statement that was.  I had a New Kids on the Block lunchbox, a New Kids on the Block poster, a New Kids on the Block t-shirt, and New Kids on the Block dolls.

“If you love Donnie Wahlberg so much, you should write him a fan letter and tell him.  Maybe he’ll write you back,” your mother said to me.

Wait…what?  I could actually get a letter in the mailbox?  From Donnie Wahlberg! I had to know more.

“Where would I send it?” I asked, my heart racing the whole time.

“To their fan club, stupid!” she yelled.  Oh yeah, in addition to being a liar, a thief, and a total drama queen, your mom can be a real bitch sometimes.  “Just give it to me and I’ll mail it for you.”

“You’d do that for me?” I asked while contemplating reversing my stance on the whole ‘bitch’ thing.

“Sure.  What are big sisters for?”

So I sat down and wrote Donnie Wahlberg the most beautiful love letter ever composed by an eight year old, and guess what?  Two weeks later I received a letter back from Donnie!  He even wrote Love, Donnie.  XOXOXO, at the end.

Of course, I wrote him again and again, and he wrote me back each and every time.  Or so I thought.  About six months into what had been to that point the happiest time of my life, your mother’s best friend came up to me at recess and asked if I had received any more letters from Donnie Wahlberg.

“How did you know Donnie Wahlberg has been writing to me?” I asked.

“Because I’m Donnie Wahlberg,” she said.  “Instead of mailing your letters, your sister just brought them over to my house and I’d write a fake letter back.  Wow, she’s right.  You are stupid.”

My own sister, a liar.  Who knows what might have happened if she had mailed those letters for real.  Maybe he would have married me instead of Jenny McCarthy.  Maybe, with my love and encouragement, he would have signed up for proper acting lessons and become a great actor instead of the mediocre one that he is today.  I bet that’s why his brother, Mark is the better thespian.  He had all of his mail properly delivered.

I tried to keep myself busy in order to forget Donnie.  I tried tuba lessons, but had to quit because your mother claimed she couldn’t concentrate on her homework with all the noise I was making.  Drama queen.  I signed up for junior cooking lessons, but had to drop out after your mom claimed that the cookies I had made gave her food poisoning.  Drama queen.  Then I tried baton lessons, but had to give that up after I accidentally twirled the baton the wrong way and broke a porcelain doll our grandma had given her.  Drama queen.

I was miserable for the next six years until I went to high school and joined the cheerleading squad.  Like any good cheerleader, I began dating the quarterback.  It was love.  Real love.  Not silly, prepubescent Donnie Wahlberg love.  I saw us getting married one day.  So did your mother.  She envisioned herself getting married to the very same quarterback.  She stole my boyfriend!  The tool you now call your father.

He really is a tool.  To begin with, he dumped me for your mother.  Secondly, he’s the one that came up with your name.  What kind of name is Jaynella Bijou?  He’ll likely tell you that it’s Latin for ‘Unicorn that poops diamonds’, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he once had a threesome with a set of triplets named Jayne, Ella and Ruby.

Plus he’s an alcoholic.  Seriously, he brews his own beer.  Who drinks that much beer that they feel the need to brew it themselves in order to save a few bucks?  A drunk, that’s who.

There you have it, kid.  Everything you need to know about your parents and how they’ll screw you over if you don’t pay attention.  Have a nice life.

Truthfully yours,

Aunt Hannah.


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