ABC, 1, 2, 3, Ethan Frome and Me

To the Illiterate and Desperate,

While I lack ethos in your area of concern (as I usually do the heartbreaking), I can point you in the right direction of a piece of early 20th Century English literature that will do the trick.  To guarantee success however, your significant other must meet two tidbits of criteria: he must possess low self-confidence and a tendency for easy-manipulation as well as a dull, sub-five-syllable full name.  You must also understand the preservation of your relationship depends on abiding to the following intricate process as closely as possible.  Step one: time travel.  In order for this magic, fiction-inspired process to work one must live in a society absent of social networking or the speed and ease of today's communication system.  Additionally one must teleport back in time to a place of severe isolation with long, dark winters (Starkfield, Massachusetts for example).  This new setting will eliminate your lover's ability to scan the market for single women via Facebook, MySpace, and ChristianMingle.com.  Step two: temptation.  Recruit a young housemaid that appears superior to you in nearly any way imaginable.  Hire her to take care of your house and bribe her under the table to flirt with your boyfriend.  Key point: know that you serve as the puppeteer in this process in order to avoid jealousy at all costs.  Also, find a young woman so perfect to insure your significant other's falling for her.  Step three: the smash-up.  Encourage the pseudo-mistress to express a longing to sled down the town hill regardless of the risk of colliding with a tree.  On the night your boyfriend finally succumbs to his new crush's wish of sledding down the tree-lined hill, have her propose a suicide pact so they can live on forever together a la Romeo and Juliet.  Your boyfriend by this point will agree.  Your hired girl must steer the sled towards a tree with no apparent fear, but immediately prior to impact she must brake with her feet to slow the speed of the sled to a velocity capable of injuring severely--not death.  Conveniently, as your loved one and puppet girl lay unconscious in the snow you will scoop them up and nurse them back to semi-functional health back home.  According to plan, your boyfriend will suffer temporary paralysis leaving him incapable of leaving you and your care, while your housemaid-turned-mistress will experience brain damage among other injuries to make her less appealing than you.  Happily.  Ever.  After.  Easily as that. 

Best of Luck,
Ms. Serensky

PS Read Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton for more insight.

Who Let the Dogs Out? Woof Woof Woof Woof.

After receiving the yellow lab characterization last week I have decided to take it full circle.  Therefore, my movie selection reflects the persona I recently have embraced.  Surprisingly, the list of fitting films proved much longer than anticipated.  I considered many--My Dog Skip, Old Yeller, Must Love Dogs, and Beverly Hills Chihuahua to name a few.  However, one stands far and above the rest, the one I can relate to best: Air Bud.  Jess's proclamation of me as a Labrador retriever brought forth a new Kyle Weber.  In the words of the film's subtitle, "The Dog Is In The House."  Until recently I never made such an intimate connection to the Disney family-comedy.  Thanks for opening my eyes ex-writing-partner, your simile has come to define me.  Okay, maybe Bud hails from a different breed of retriever but I am sure the Labrador and the golden share a close common ancestor.  Beyond the obvious comparison of a dog to my happy-go-lucky, proverbial tail-wagging self, Buddy and I have a lot more in common.  Upon their first encounter Buddy comes off as extremely shy and non-confrontational with his future best friend, Josh.  Similarly, I have the tendency to ease into revealing my complete personality with new people.  Not until this semester have I received the yellow Labrador comparison, AP English 12 must have summoned my true colors I suppose.  In order to gain the trust of Bud, Josh bribes the dog with cups of pudding.  Now, I do not recall ever getting pudding in Ms. Serensky's class but I love to imagine the prospect of it because I have always had a craving for the treat.  From age five to age nine I had at least one SnackPack of various flavors everyday.  Coincidentally, Buddy and I have eerily similar track records on the basketball court as well.  An unorthodox baller, Buddy had his own way of shooting the basketball: with his nose.  Likewise, I have the reputation for having odd form myself.  Although I do not shoot the ball with my face I see the example Buddy sets as one all atypical shooters should respect.  Air Bud taught me to have no shame when playing the game, rather play your hardest and to the best of your abilities regardless of how you get the job done.  Maybe Bud ran into a similar problem as I did involving our not-so-fundamental game which allowed me to make the team but see the floor only on occasion.  Buddy can feel my pain as he served as part of Josh's basketball team but with the primary role of team mascot.  I am no Mortimer, but probably the closest thing to a male cheerleader the basketball team has ever seen.  Hey, if you cannot influence the game directly with your play, do so with your voice (or bark).  I understand and embrace the call out Jess made regarding the way I act.  As long as I am considered with the likes of Buddy, Skip, and Old Yeller I have no complaints (Cujo and Fluffy comparisons on the other hand would anger me).  Consequently, if Disney ever needs a main man for Air Bud "The Scholarly Student-Athlete," I nominate myself for the job.  Wag more and bark less my friends.  Woof.