Dear Jessica, My Barbie Likes Outsider Art
If you’ve been reading my blog for the past two months, you might recall that I ran into my childhood British pen pal, Jessica, while strolling through the blogosphere.
You might also recall that my tongue is laced with sarcasm.
(Don’t judge me. It tastes just like a Pop-Tart.)
Jessica and I were so moved by the encouraging comments we received about our letters — because we realized you might’ve thought they were real.
Oops! Our sincere apologies to any readers who believed in our letters’ authenticity. It was never our intention to mislead you. In fact, we thought we threw in just enough bullshit for you to see through our charm.
Rainbow-winged unicorns also don’t exist. Doesn’t the world kinda suck?
On the other hand, I do know that a bratty 7-year-old Angie and a bratty 7-year-old Jessica both exist — they live inside our hearts. Yes, they wrote these letters. They also kicked us in the shins for calling them bratty.
Jessica has today published the second letter that 1982-Angie wrote to 1989-Jessica. Please join me for another trip across the Atlantic and read it here.
Your Friend in Flashbacks (that are only simulated and not real),
P.S. Even the flux capacitor has its limits.