Holy Macanoli!
Here’s the Problem: I grew up with this girl. Not Soleil Moon Frye, but Punky Brewster. She was my imaginary friend (yes, I realize she was an actual character and my imagination wasn’t running on all cylinders, but give me a break). Punky was to blame if a lamp broke or if I dropped my broccoli on the floor. She was a great companion to my sad only-child self. When I found out she…er… Soleil had a twitter, I was all over it. Until I realized she was like this.
Actual Problem: Listen, we had some good times when I was young but now we’ve both grown up, so please:
- Don’t call me “Twitterville”, it makes me want to rainbow barf on your cuffed jeans,
- Don’t try to go home again. Anything this desperate is better accomplished with a straight-edge,
- And, bitch, try being Punky again without giving credit to Glomer and I’ll let everyone know who really threw that guard party kegger at my house, lost the front door knob and slept with Sharon’s* boyfriend.
*Names have been changed to protect actual humans
**Thanks to Nora for bringing this to my attention. She might be entering the wrong side of 25 tomorrow, but she’s still got it! For now…
