Karl Ristoff - 3:48 PM
Michelle does have a formidable resting bitch face.
Coretta White - 3:48 PM
i have resting bitch face it’s a condition
Karl Ristoff - 3:49 PM
I have a pretty strong RBF myself. so is that the current term for the expression we old people call ISS (“I smell shit.”)?
Coretta White - 3:49 PM
i think RBF is just people chillin out when I have resting bitch face, im usually just thinking about what i want for lunch and it results in my face looking rather unapproachable i don’t have to see it so i don’t care
Karl Ristoff - 3:51 PM
Ha ha. ANYWAY, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for the Mandela post. Please let me know if you want me to take a look at anything …
Coretta White - 3:52 PM
if i write i’ll just post it i think that will simplify things right?
Karl Ristoff - 3:52 PM
Yes. Just here to help. Not that you need it.
Coretta White - 3:53 PM
oh, don’t be fooled, i do. winter break will allow me some time though to catch up on things (i hope) i’m drinking coffee now btw I think it tastes like garbage, but from the way adults treasure it, I hope to one day not feel like I’m drinking soil
Karl Ristoff - 3:58 PM
Oh, don’t drink coffee. It’s a very expensive habit.
Coretta White - 3:58 PM
really? can’t i have one vice?!!? i used to play candy crush, but I can’t do that while i’m busy.
Karl Ristoff - 3:59 PM
5 bucks for a latte? And one per day is never enough! You do the math. Yeah, I’d advise you to stay off those game apps too! But that’s not my job. Wasn’t I trying to sign off a minute ago?
Coretta White - 4:00 PM
oh, i’m not on a latte yet. I hope to stay on dunkin donuts regular for a while! Yes, I think you were signing off. let me know what you think of my post
Karl Ristoff - 4:01 PM
Will do. Stay clean and fly right! I’ll send you some ideas for things I might write …
Coretta White - 4:01 PM
ok, great. until then … i’ll sit here with my RBF
Karl Ristoff - 4:02 PM
Over and out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Coretta and Karl (December 18–24, 2013)
tumblr.
LITTLE WHITE LIES
December 18, 2013
Little White Lie of the Day: 1) Barack Obama used his phone to take a selfie with the Danish prime minister. 2) First Lady Michelle Obama sat there the entire time scowling. 3) This is the part of Nelson Mandela’s funeral that deserves the most coverage.
Nelson Mandela, the beloved President of South Africa, has passed away. I’m sure that all of you are aware of his passing … but I don’t necessarily think it’s because of all of the press covering all that President Mandela did to change the fabric of race relations in South Africa; rather, I think it’s because of all of the press being dedicated to the “Obama Selfie.”
1) We all saw the pictures of, well, the picture. President Obama is sitting with (blonde) Danish prime minister, Helle Thorning-Schmidt, and some dude named David Cameron taking a selfie … at a funeral. This is not Obama’s phone, not that it should matter, but it’s not his phone. Apparently the Danish prime minister wanted to take a selfie with the US president and that other dude. Now a day after the initial picture, the actual photographer who took the picture said that the atmosphere at this point was of singing and cheering to celebrate the life of President Mandela, and that should and does matter.
2) The First Lady can be seen in many of the photos to be scowling with her arms crossed. I want us to factor in some things: a) She has been at a service for 2 hours (that would go on for another 2 more), and didn’t realize her picture was being taken. We all have the right not to smile at all hours of the day. b) There are pictures within the same very quick montage of pictures where Michelle can be seen smiling and talking to Barack (can I call him that?), the blonde woman, and that dude (WHO IS HE AGAIN?). c) Maybe she has resting bit@# face, like me and 70% of my friends. Who cares? Get out of her life and facial expressions. d) Even if she didn’t like the picture being taken, THAT IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS FUNERAL SERVICE, PEOPLE.
3) Nelson Mandela was wrongfully imprisoned for 27 years … yes, 20 years + 7 years. Upon his release in 1990, he could have done a lot of things, but what did he do? He picked up where he left off and made strides to change race relations in the highly volatile South African political sphere. These are the actions that got him imprisoned in the first place.
In 1994 Nelson Mandela was elected president of South Africa, becoming the first black chief executive in the country’s history. He broke down barriers of race and was beloved by blacks and whites in his country. To really fathom the magnitude of his impact, you’re going to have to leave this LWL post and do research of your own. Do this. That is what his legacy deserves.
Friday, December 20, 2013 4:05 PM
Tweet (Karl)
Target announces massive credit card breach 2 days after refusing to carry Beyonce album. Coincidence?? #Don’tCrossTheQueen
Thurs, Dec 20, 2013 5:05 PM
Coretta: Nice tweet.
Karl: Thanks. Any reason we aren’t Gchatting?
Coretta: Any reason you didn’t run that tweet by me first?
Karl: OMG, sorry! I totally spaced! Hope it wasn’t a problem.
Coretta: Not a problem, just not the protocol we agreed upon.
Karl: You are correct. My bad. Won’t happen again.
Coretta: Thank you.
Karl: Is anything else bothering you?
Coretta: Nope.
Karl: Okay. you sure?
Coretta: Yep.
Karl: Okay. Now that we’re texting, I wanted to ask you: was that Mandela post based on something your parents said at breakfast?
Coretta: Gotta go, Karl.
December 24, 2013 (Gchat):
Karl Ristoff - 12:41 PM
Ok, so I realize you’re not interested in being a gay rights activist, but I had to bring this to your attention: Heroic gay WWII codebreaker Alan Turing* was just issued a royal pardon for his crime of being gay.
Coretta White - 12:42 PM
ummm are you suggesting that I have a LWL post about that? I’m not trying to act like the blog is all about teeny bopper issues or anything, but seriously, Karl. That sounds like a PBS documentary. It’s not like Hollywood is making movies about Alan Turing.
Karl Ristoff - 12:43 PM
But 3 days ago Uganda made it illegal to be gay! And now Britain is pardoning a guy they castrated 60 years ago because he was gay?!!!
Coretta White - 12:43 PM
I’m writing for teens
Karl Ristoff - 12:44 PM
ok ok, you’re right. There are just so many gay teens in the news these days. From Hollywood to Uganda.
Coretta White - 12:44 PM
i’m not saying that we aren’t going to write about LGBT issues etc but I really don’t think that’s the jumping-off point
Karl Ristoff - 12:45 PM
You’re totally right. I knew it was a long shot. I’ll just pitch this stuff to Ellen.
Coretta White - 12:45 PM
HAHAH
Karl Ristoff - 12:46 PM
Yes. That was a joke.
Coretta White - 12:46 PM
Or Charlie Rose
Karl Ristoff - 12:46 PM
I appreciate the HAHAH
Charlie Rose is GAY??
Coretta White - 12:46 PM
I don’t think so, but he would run that story maybe anderson cooper is a better fit
Karl Ristoff - 12:47 PM
Oh. Yeah. Okay. You’re right though. Xmas?
Coretta White - 12:47 PM
xmas? a story on the holidays?
Karl Ristoff - 12:47 PM
You did that hilarious piece about Thanksukkah!
Coretta White
- 12:51 PM
LWL needs to be things that teens want to know
Karl Ristoff - 12:53 PM
Am I the only middle-aged white dude who reads LWL? Might want to start thinking beyond your core audience a little …
Coretta White - 12:53 PM
Yes, but not to the point of losing the core audience
Karl Ristoff - 12:53 PM
Remind me. What is LWL?
Coretta White - 12:53 PM
LITTLE WHITE LIES
omg that means oh my GAWD
Karl Ristoff - 12:54 PM
I know what the letters stand for. But what does Little White Lies stand for?
Coretta White - 12:54 PM
well, initially it was about the things my parents would say flippantly that I didn’t think were true it was just a quick title i thought of now, it is more about the little white lies everyone believes? maybe?
Karl Ristoff - 12:57 PM
You need to figure it out.
Coretta White - 12:58 PM
I don’t need you to help me figure out the title of my blog.
Karl Ristoff - 12:58 PM
Not the title I’m talking about. I’m here to help if you want, but maybe we should take a few days off. You know, enjoy the holidays. Xmas and Kwanzaa and New Year’s and um, Boxing Day?
Coretta White - 12:58 PM
yeah, i’ll enjoy kwanzaa of course
Karl Ristoff - 12:58 PM
I’m talking about YOU. Figuring out who YOU are.
Coretta White - 12:59 PM
Okie Dokie
Karl Ristoff - 1:00 PM
Happy Holidays!
Coretta White - 1:00 PM
FELIZ NAVIDAD
CHAPTER NINE
Coretta (January 3, 2014)
I’m looking at myself in the mirror, and while I think I look like the same girl that started this school year, I feel different. Same hair, same eyes, same resting bitch face, but not the same, either. Today is not like any other day. Today is the day that I will be going to meet with the Skool twins at Pulse TV … gulp. It’s always been my dream to be able to miss school for something cool, something more legitimate than my precious education.
And suddenly here I am.
My parents not only are allowing me to miss school today, they actually insisted upon it. So if today is so special and such a big step in my life, why do I still feel like barfing into the sink? Nerves? Elation? The sinking feeling that I’m taking a royal crap on my friendship with Rachel? Whatever; I have things to do, and I will right this with Rachel in time. Maybe she can become my cohost or something. On second thought, national television might not be the best platform for her. But hey, I hear Ellen is a neurotic perfectionist, too, so who knows?
You know that feeling you get when you lie to someone about something, like they’re going to show up at any moment? Well, I keep thinking Karl and/or Rachel are about to knock on my front door. Then I’d have to explain where I was going, and I’d start some stupid lie, and my parents would just blurt out the truth, and I’d be relieved and simultaneously mortified. Anyhoo …
I decided that to look the part, I needed to dress the part. Seeing as I was seventeen, I knew it wasn’t necessary to wear a suit to have the Skool twins take me seriously. But my usual uniform of skinny jeans, combat boots, and a slanky sweater just wasn’t going to cut it. I also didn’t want to look overeager, like this was a college admissions interview or something.
Initially I tried on the dress that I wore to my sophomore year homecoming dance. My father thought it projected a young woman of class and grace … aka it had a neckline that looked straight out of the Renaissance period. Much more appropriate for a TV development meeting than a dance. Turned out I was not the same size girl as sophomore year, because there was absolutely no way my boobs were fitting into that dress anymore. It felt like I was being strapped in to go to space.
Aha! The dress that I wore to my cousin Derek’s graduation from Brown last spring. Perfect. It was green, which spoke to prosperity. (Which made it Karl’s favorite color for the same reason. Hmm. But at least it wasn’t money green.) It was tailored, so I’d look professional. It was above the knee, and at my age, all dresses should be above my knee. And most importantly, my chest didn’t look like a saran-wrapped deli sandwich.
Once I picked the dress, I took longer than usual to get ready, mostly to avoid talking to my parents. They were almost too excited about all of this. Don’t get me wrong; I was excited myself. But parents’ excitement feels weird, like it’s going to jinx good things.
After that very strange dinner at Mike’s house, I’d come home and told my parents about his parents’ surreal proposition. It all came out in one big jumble, pretty much in one continuous breath. Mostly I remembered their faces glazing over with joy. I also remembered thinking, You do understand that this is only happening because thousands of strangers are laughing at you and your breakfast-time foolishness. Or did you conveniently forget that?
Maybe they had, because they snapped right into takecharge mode. They called Esther and Douglas Cornelius to thank them, and the four decided on the phone right then and there to accompany me to meet Anders and Karin Skool at the Pulse TV headquarters. (Which was only appropriate, like my tailored dress.) Mike wasn’t able to get the day off from school, which was a bummer, but what can ya do?
All right, I’d restyled my hair about five times. Time to go out to the breakfast table. They were already waiting. My mother gave me a quick once-over. She had that same glazed look of joy once again. She just couldn’t help herself, of course.
“I seem to remember that dress,” she said, beaming. “It was for a certain graduation of a family member at a certain prestigious institution. I think that’s good luck, you know.”
“I didn’t know you were superstitious, Mom.” I was being slightly passive-aggressive. I do that when I’m nervous. Not my best quality.
“Well, I’m usually not, and I know you don’t need luck today. I think you look very put together. Fierce, if I say so.”
Why did she have to say “fierce”? Why did it bother me? I know she was just being sweet and supportive, and if that’s my biggest complaint, I should probably just shut up. So I did.
My dad cleared his throat.
“Now, Coretta …” I could tell he was going into a speech here. “I want to let you know that we’re very excited to be a part of this venture with you. You’ve really grown into the woman we dreamed you to be, and then some.”
Oh God, he’s calling me a “woman” now. And if he only knew how much I’d let Rachel down, or that Karl even existed, he proooobably wouldn’t be saying this.
Well, he didn’t know. Only I knew the whole truth, and that was fine. It was fine. It was fine.
The more I say this to myself, the truer it becomes, right?
My father made his special pancakes for breakfast. My mother fixed her “special” bacon. She has mastered the art of crisping bacon—just for me. It’s the little things in life. My parents let me drink coffee that morning, too. Dress the part, drink the part. I was the young woman of their dreams.
We took the train from Brooklyn to Manhattan. As I sat there, smushed between them, I realized that I hadn’t taken the train into Manhattan with my parents in a while. I went with Rachel all the time. Well, not in recent months, but we used to go shopping, or just pretend we were twenty-three. Mike and I would go every few weeks, sometimes just to get a cookie from Levain Bakery. Using the word cookie is an understatement. If you haven’t had one, get your life right.
So while I was feeling more grown-up than ever, I was also transported back in time. The nostalgia made my throat tighten and my eyes sting. Not good. But the memories kept shoving their way in: going in to see the ballet or a musical, or to gawk at the Christmas windows as a little girl. My parents might have been thinking the same thing, because they kept giving each other little smiles, and then smiling at me.
I smiled bac
k. At least I wasn’t crying.
The Skools’ office was located in the heart of Times Square, generally a place I liked to avoid. Flashing lights, TV screens, and glass-plated TV studios were everywhere. My father (and his iPhone) navigated us through the masses of people (tourists with iPhones). A huge purple LED sign illuminated the outside of their headquarters: PULSE TV.
We walked into the lobby of the building where Esther and Douglas Cornelius were waiting for us, and so was … Mike?
Yes, that was him, planted next to his parents smiling at me. For a crazy moment, I felt like I was walking down the aisle (minus the nightmare of being married at the end). He stood in a sleek gray suit with a plaid tie and brown wingtip shoes. Damn, the boy cleaned up well. Apparently he thought it was the day for surprises.
I was glad he was there, but I wasn’t looking for curveballs. I mean, the floor was made of marble, and I was wearing heels for the third time in my life. Baby steps.
We all checked in with the security guard, showed our IDs, and waited to be beckoned. As I tuned out my parents’ and the Corneliuses’ small talk, I no longer wanted to barf. In fact, I was feeling like I was right where I was supposed to be. The last time I’d felt this way was in the fifth grade, when I was spelling the final word for the Kings County spelling bee. I knew I was lucky to get hypothalamus, and I knew I was going to crush it. I did. (I also flubbed episiotomy at the state spelling bee, because I asked for a definition. Bad idea.)
Before I could dwell any more on past failures, a very tiny twenty-something man in a suit and bow tie approached. His hair was so blond it almost looked white.
Little White Lies Page 8
