Hump Day:

At Least You Aren't an Un-famous Person Seeking a Book Deal

or, maybe you are, in which case, you'll feel our pain.

Well, as all of our faithful readers know, on Wednesdays, the hardest day of the week to survive, we like to bring you a little bit of news to brighten your gloomy, office-occupied Humpday. Normally this news is about someone who has it really rough, someone you can look at be think "I may be at my desk under fluorescent lighting, filing old faxes by date, but at least I have it better than (insert Humpday Victim here)".

Well friends, today we are attempting to enlist some personal sympathy. Sympathy for us and all the other young writers of the world who write until their hands bleed and until their eyes are twitching, those of us who scribble ideas in the night onto post-its only to wake up with notes that say something like short story idea: a girl who is pregnant with two babies from different dads AT THE SAME TIME or similar genius thought fragments.

Same uterus, DIFFERENT DADS

Those of us who have poured our hearts out onto or MacBooks, and sent our idea off to callous agents who we'll never hear from again OR agents who will tell you "I could sell this if you'd been on a reality show" (yes, this ACTUALLY HAPPENED)*. Because, dear friends, we live in a world where talent and ambition is no longer valued and the only currency is your willingness to debase yourself on national television.

Laugh it up, Conrad.

Case and point, Holly and I were horrified to find out today that coveted book deals have been granted to JWOWW and Ronnie, some of the orangest, shiniest, big-boobiest cast members of MTV's "The Jersey Shore". Oh, the HUMANITY!

Poet Laureate's of the Armpit of America

Okay, did i watch every single episode of "The Jersey Shore"? Yes, but whatever, I told myself it was zeitgeist-y performance art. Do I own a book entitled "Laguna Beach: Life Inside The Bubble"? Yeah, so what! ?I got it for Easter, like, Freshman year of college, big deal.

The Easter Bunny Did It

The POINT is that its not fair! Apparently the two have been commissioned to co-write a book entitled "Never Fall In Love at the Jersey Shore... Lest You Should Need a Perscription to Herpacin for the Rest of Your Days", ok i made that last part up. But apparently this is going to be a "How-To" book with plenty of tips and tricks to unleash your inner sweaty, juicy, drunken "guido".

First of all, I'm shocked learn that JWOWW and Ronnie are even literate, let alone able to sit down long enough, while sober to actually commit "thoughts" to paper. Also I read a statement that JWOWW wrote about the "clothing" line she's "working on" and she wrote that her clothes are very easy to "where", not "wear", where. As in "this shirt barely covers my nipples, where is the rest of the fabric?" Kind of proving my point.

Totally whereable

As for Ronnie, the only "how to" advice I'd ever take from him is "how to beat the shit out of someone who threatens you" but this is only something I should learn because sometimes I have to walk home from the subway late at night. And yes, fine I wouldn't mind reading his advice on how to make Ron Ron Juice, because it kind of looks delish and obviously makes everyone drunk enough that it doesn't really hurt when they get punched in the face.

I don't like to be a "hater", I really don't. But all I've ever wanted to be is a writer, as long as I can remember. So I really wish someone had given me the memo that said: "All you have to do to make all your writerly dreams come true is be born unto Italians, get breast implants and skunk-streak hair extensions, wear sweatpants in public, tan, avoid getting any semblance of a 'real job', dance in a scary fashion and get blackout drunk on MTV.

Instead, I followed the now-defunct memo that read: "Read big, long books whenever you can, fill hundreds of notebooks before you reach middle school, enter every writing contest ever, pay attention to details, go to college, study english, move to New York, and pray someone will like what you write."

A lot of good that's done.

So, on this Humpday, be glad you are not me or Holly, or any other young writer struggling to get their ideas out there in a world where empty, orange heads are at a premium.

She's on OUR side.

*Also, we told Joyce Carrol Oates one time how we were turned down by an agent because we'd never been on a reality show and SHE said "Thats Despicable"... did you hear that Literary world JOYCE CARROL OATES THINKS THIS IS DESPICABLE.

FOREVER Your Girl who will write for you forever,

Paige

Crush Confessions

spotted xoxo
How Else Would He Know That You Really Loved Him?

Besides clean sheets, a stack of my mom's Coastal Living magazine's (the closest actual Coast is probably in New Jersey, that Linda is such a dreamer!) next to my bed, and a guaranteed box of Cocoa Puffs , one of my favorite things about going home to Sauk Rapids, MN, is looking through my old diaries. Sure there are entries about my sister stealing my favorite bedazzled Bebe top or how my mom FINALLY let me get blonde streaks in my hair. But mostly I wrote about boys. Boys that I thought were cu-ute, boys with nice, swooshy hair, boys whose tire swing pushing abilities I admired, boys who admired the fact that I cheated at dodge ball. I told my diary about every detail of every crush, heartbreak, and rhinestoned shirt I ever had. It was my personal kiss and tell, except there was hardly ever any kissing.

This Valentine's Day, Paige and I are coming clean about some of our most intense grade school crushes. Although I would have preferred the apocalypse to having any of my crushes found out, now that I am twenty four and only have secret crushes on Angelika Theater ushers and a hopefully-straight waiter at Le Gamine, Paige and myself are ready to identify our all-time biggest crushes.

Holly:

Dear Patrick McGlynn,
Thank god for alphabetized lockers. Pat, you probably think I am such a weirdo. I was just overly cheerful and made weird jokes about our Irish heritage to cover up for the way your big brown eyes made me feel. You were so shy, sensitive, and would sometimes smile at my weird jokes if you weren't too busy rolling your eyes. Although it just seemed friendly when I would say (everyday for seven years), "Good mmooorrrrniingg Patrick McGlynn!", it was really a facade for "Pat McGlynn tell me your dirtiest secret."

oh you weren't into a girl who did this?

Dear James 'Jim' Kaveny,
You James Kaveny, made me weak in the knees. With your blonde crewcut and your Nike Foosball hoodie, and the way your would make Sister Therese Marie laugh in Spanish class, ugh. I worshipped the ground your Nike Jordan's walked on. You had tricep muscles as a 4th grader. I would play kickball at recess rather than jump roping, all just to be closer to you. Sigh. Loving you was easy like Sunday morning.

Dear Eric Erdman,

I know that kids in school would make fun of the fact the you were in drumline, and that we both know they made fun of your backbrace you had to wear all the time because you were always carrying a huge drum around. No worries. Maybe there's a secret metal rod somewhere in me and so I was literally and figuratively magnetized to you. Your dimples, your freckles, your letter jacket that didn't boast being the football captain but instead had a little drum on it. When I saw your drumming, it always felt like it was to the beat of my heart.

Mmm drumline

Paige:

Dear Zeeke,
I never knew your last name and at this point, I probably never will. Our love was torn apart because of the rules regarding staff dating country club members, it was like "Caddy Shack". The fact that I was 10 years old and you were probably in your mid-20s was probably also a factor, an issue of legality, but I want you to know my love for you was real. I'll never forget the time that you blew your whistle at me and shouted "NO RUNNING". Zeeke, I knew what you really meant. Or that time my Mom called the clubhouse looking for me and you walked over to me and Emily as we were braiding friendship bracelets and asked, "Are you Paige Tibbetts? Your moms on the phone", you didn't have to be so coy, Zeeke I felt the same way.

Paige writing in her diary in a tard

Dear Mathieu,
I loved the way you spell your name, the way the August sunlight would glint in your blonde hair as you strode across the grass, field hockey stick in hand. At first i thought it strange to meet such a hot dude who was so sick at field hockey, but you assured me, as my field hockey camp counselor, that mens field hockey is huge in South Africa. I learned so much from you in just the one week we spent together, you taught me about who I am, you taught me what "unrequited love" feels like and you taught me a new grip that added about 20 yards to my drive, and for all of those I thank you.


Dear Ryan,
You were our only co-worker at Island Water Sports that referred to Emily and I by our real names and not simply "jailbait". The day that you let me ride on the back of your jet-ski will go down in history as the most romantic, aquatic moment of my life, you told me to hold on... and I never wanted to let go. You drove one of those cool Jeeps and didn't even put the top on in the rain... I like my men dangerous and/or irresponsible. You also looked and acted exactly like Jeff Spicoli and at 29 years of age, some may say thats not a compliment but for me, checkered Vans will always be sexier than a suit. I may have been 14 years your junior but you always acted my age, I appreciated that. Where has our love gone, Ryan from Island Water Sports? Our love has taken flight on the wings of a Jersey Shore summer gone by, but I remember... I'll always remember

We also want to take this opportunity to thank all of our followers and commenters and invite you to join in on our fun. It felt good to finally let everyone know exactly how we felt about some of our all-time biggest crushes. We invite you to email fabulouslydirtpoor@gmail.com a description, along with the name, of a crush you want to let everyone know you had. So you were into the kid in middle school who brough squirrel meat for lunch? Let us know. You had the hots for your 5th grade bus driver along with his waist-length hair? Please, we want to hear about it. You secretly liked it when your best friends older brother hastled you about eating too many Doritos in one sitting? Oh do tell.

Thanks! We will post whatever we get around Valentine's Day.

Have a great Valentine's Day everyone! Maybe it be filled with love and chocolate, or love and chocolate and Lifetime and Phish Food and maybe some drunk texting.

Forever Your Girl,

Holly