>Ask anyone who knew me back in the day (i.e. – before I was in third grade) and they will tell you I was the sweetest, shyest, nicest little girl in the neighborhood.  Parents loved when their kids invited me over to play because I was so quiet and polite.
(Actually, when I am not yelling fuck or shit or asshole dildoface fucknuts!, I am still very polite.  I always say thank you or excuse me.)  So what happened to the shy sweet kid who played so nicely with others?

I got a Cabbage Patch Kid, that’s what happened.  I am 100% serious, and my mom will verify this.  As you may recall, back in 1984 the Cabbage Patch Kid craze was in full swing.  My mom signed me up on the waiting list at the Toys ‘R’ Us.  When they called one day to let her know that it was our turn, I was beside myself with excitement.  Finally, my very own Cabbage Patch Kid!  It was gonna be the best!

At Toys ‘R’ Us, we went in the back way into the warehouse.  My Cabbage Patch Kid had brown hair in pig tails and brown eyes (just like me!), jeans, a light blue and white horizontal striped t-shirt, and a red windbreaker.  Her birth certificate said that her name was Jocelyn Essie.  Jocelyn.  (How awesome a name is that?!?!)  The people at Toys ‘R’ Us neglected to tell my mom that Jocelyn was a tool of the devil, though.

The problems began not long after Jocelyn came home with us.  Like a ventriloquist uses his dummy to say mean and horrible things that the ventriloquist can pretend to be shocked at, Jocelyn channeled my nasty side.  She was a bully.  She ordered around the other Cabbage Patch Kids at school.  I don’t remember the shit she pulled at home, but my mom told me that if Jocelyn didn’t start being nicer, she would have to leave.  (Eventually, Jocelyn got her comeuppance.  During our traditional day of lunch and Easter basket shopping – that’s another story - during spring break, I got sick after eating an egg salad sandwich at Marshall Field’s and barfed up all over the parking lot of Toys ‘R’ Us.  I had been holding Jocelyn tightly between my legs as I heaved on the tar, but my mom was worried that I’d drop her, so she made me hand Jocelyn over, at which point my mom dropped her head-first into a pile of spew.  Damn, was I pissed!)

Yet once my nasty side came out, it never went away again, even when Jocelyn was out of the picture.  Would I be a nice person today if I had never had an evil Cabbage Patch Kid?  I doubt it.  Puberty probably would’ve ruined me if Jocelyn hadn’t done so first.  All’s well that ends well, right?

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