Dear Dumb Diary #7: Never Underestimate Your Dumbness
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interrupt me right now.
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Isabella helped me so much with my standing
that I feel totally, totally, totally, totally,
totally, totally, totally, totally, totally,
totally terrible about ditching her for tacos with
Hudson.
But hey! What do you know? Now I don’t.
Wow, I got over that fast. You’d think a person
would take longer to recover from ten totallys.
Guess I’m just a strong person.
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Wednesday 11
Dear Dumb Diary,
OH, MAN! Right in the middle of art class
today, Uncle Assistant Principal Devon and Aunt
Carol came to the door and asked Miss Anderson to
step out into the hall for a chat.
Aunt Carol looked so mean and angry that
for a minute I almost thought she was my mom. My
future uncle looked distressed and confused. After
about two minutes the three of them were doing
that sort of angry-whispery-private-talking that
is a signal to others to drop everything and listen
more closely.
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Isabella and I probably would have ignored
it a little longer, except that Angeline started
creeping toward the door to hear better, and we
decided we’d better get up there with her to make
sure she didn’t violate their privacy more than was
acceptable.
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When we peeked around the doorway, we saw
that Aunt Carol was waving the big glittery earrings
I had left in a bag on her desk in Miss Anderson’s
face. Miss Anderson was saying that she had no
idea what they were or where they came from, and
Aunt Carol was saying it was obvious that Miss
Anderson had left them there because everybody
knows about her arty glitter thing and how she was
never happy that Aunt Carol and Assistant Principal
Devon were engaged, and who on Earth would put
glitter on dog turds, anyway?
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Glitter on Dog Turds. Glitter on Dog Turds. It
echoed inside my head for a moment, and I started
thinking,
It would be a really cool name for a band,
but I’m not sure what their costumes would look
like.
Then it suddenly occurred to me:
Those weren’t big glittery earrings that
Angeline dropped in my yard. The glitter that
Stinker ate had finally made its way through his
system. Those were sparkly Stinker doodies!
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There’s no easy way to jump into a situation
like this. And that’s why it was so easy to not do it.
We ran back to our seats and pretended like
we had no idea what was making Miss Anderson so
angry when she stormed back in and slammed the
door behind her.
“Some people!” she said, and we all nodded
because nodding is the wisest thing to do to an
angry person.
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Thursday 12
Dear Dumb Diary,
All night I worried about Miss Anderson. It
didn’t help that Isabella told me that turd-leaving
is probably a Hygiene Crime. She told me about
this one girl from another school who sneezed
underneath one of those plastic sneeze guards at a
salad bar and, as a penalty for her Hygiene Crime,
the judge made her work at that restaurant for the
rest of her life. I know exactly the really really old
waitress she’s talking about. She’s one of those
waitresses who’s so old that you feel bad asking her
to bring you your food. You want to tell her to sit
down and you’ll go get it.
I think those old waitresses deserve to retire.
Maybe it’s just because I’m so nice, but I always
drop a note in their suggestion box that they should
fire those old waitresses.
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I woke up thinking that I should go tell Miss
Anderson exactly what happened, but once I got to
school, Isabella talked me out of it. She said that if
I had to tell somebody I should tell my Aunt Carol,
because then she could just call the police and have
the charges dropped.
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So I went to talk to Aunt Carol. I told her that
I had left the sparkly poos on her desk and she got
all teary-eyed— which she has been doing a LOT
since she got engaged — and gave me this huge,
gross slobbery hug.
“That’s sweet of you to take the blame,
Jamie. But Angeline already told us that she did it.
She apologized. It turns out that it was a just a joke
that went bad. We all hugged and made up. I even
apologized to Miss Anderson.
“So it’s all behind us now but, of course, after
the blowup with Miss Anderson, Angeline had to be
punished. So she doesn’t get to go to the dance.”
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Angeline doesn’t get to go to the dance? And
if she doesn’t go to the dance, she can’t go for
tacos after the dance! This is all my fault.
It’s hard to believe sometimes just how great
my fault can make things turn out.
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FRIDAY 13
Dear Dumb Diary,
Isabella came over today. She needed to take
Stinker for a walk because she says that she’s doing
her Discovery Diorama on Baron Von Leash —who
is the guy that invented the leash — and she has to
make some notes on leashes. I wish I could come up
with a topic that good.
Before they left on their little stroll, I asked
Isabella why Angeline would confess to the “DOG
EARRINGS” I left on Aunt Carol’s desk (note
those little flies buzzing around the words dog
earrings).
Isabella had a pretty good theory. She thinks
it’s because Angeline is super-dumb.
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Isabella is probably right. She almost
always is.
When I think back on all the things I’ve
seen Angeline do, the one thing they have in
common is that they’re all dumb. (They’re all
strawberry-scented, too, but I think that’s just her
conditioner — although her body might actually
secrete its own strawberry scent.)
But of all the dumb things she’s ever done,
taking the blame when she didn’t actually drop a
doggy-deuce on my aunt’s desk has to rate as one
of the dumbest.
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Although I’mnot sure Isabella should be
talking about dumbness. She and Stinker were gone
for an hour and a half because she got lost in the
neighborhood. Plus, she doesn’t even know how to
take care of a dog. Stinker came back more scruffy
and dirty than usual.
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Saturday 14
Dear Dumb Diary,
First thing this morning, my mom told me
that Aunt Carol was taking Angeline, Isabella, and
me out to buy shoes to replace the clogs.
Normally, I like shopping for shoes, but I
knew I would have to look Angeline directly in her
face, which wouldn’t be going to the dance.
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We picked up Angeline at her house, and
when we got there, she was sitting outside brushing
Stickybuns, who has gotten even prettier: Angeline’s
evil beautification skills at work.
Isabella is obviously still jealous of
Stickybuns: She was staring at the dog so long it
barked at her.
Isabella still thinks that Angeline might be
super- dumb. She immediately started talking very
slowly to Angeline, like she was two years old or
something. She says that’s how you have to talk to
people who are as dumb as Angeline.
It seemed to bother Angeline quite a bit, but
Isabella says that people that dumb anger easily,
like when they aren’t allowed to have a fifth helping
of pudding, or when somebody misplaces their
chew toy.
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We tried on a lot of shoes.
We tried on some of those ones with really
pointy toes that would be handy if you wanted to
shish kebab something while looking elegant.
We tried on some really flat ones that would
be perfect if the look you were going for was a
ballerina that doesn’t have any other kind of shoe
to wear except those blunt slippers that make you
look shorter than you actually are.
We tried on some of those shoes that restrain
you with a lot of straps that also make it look like
maybe your foot is a dangerous animal that you’re
concerned might escape.
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Finally, Aunt Carol decided on some brown
shoes with medium-high heels. This came after we
determined that only Angeline was disproportioned
enough to walk in the high -high heels.
Later, when we dropped Angeline off at home,
she reminded us to make sure to wear the shoes
around to get used to them.
And Isabella told her that was a good idea,
but if you’re going to walk around in the yard, be
careful not to step in any earrings — which was
a totally stupid thing to say. As we were pulling
away, I looked back and saw Angeline putting it all
together in her head.
I told Isabella that Angeline is not as dumb
as we hope she’ll look one day.
Isabella says not to worry about it. Since it
wasn’t me who said it, Angeline must think Isabella
left the doggy- doo on Aunt Carol’s desk.
Isabella says that the simple rule of guilt
is this: You feel less guilty when people
don’t know you are.
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Sunday 15
Dear Dumb Diary,
Sunday is homework day, so Isabella came
over to walk Stinker again. She said she misplaced
the notes that she made last time. (And get this:
She got lost again, and Stinker returned all dirty
and scruffed up again .)
While they were out, I spent about two hours
in my room looking for a book I got from the library
about inventors. Mom always tells me that I should
be more organized, but I think that organization is
for people who are just too lazy to spend two hours
looking for something.
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I have an old Barbie that I thought would
look good in my diorama, but I couldn’t find any
inventors who looked like her. Evidently, seven-
foot- tall blond girls are in short supply in the
science department.
There was one inventor lady who looked a
little like a Mr. Potato Head, but Stinker ate all
the parts from my Mr. Potato Head years ago, so
now he’s just Mr. Potato with Face Wounds, and too
disturbing for a diorama.
w
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The Barbie reminded me a little of Angeline,
and I found myself acting out a little scene in which
she’s watching me and Hudson drive away for tacos,
and she’s crying and crying because she doesn’t
even get to go to the dance, and I suddenly realized
something.
I realized I love live theater.
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I also realized that it wasn’t Angeline’s fault
that she was going to feel so bad. It was Isabella’s
fault for cluing her in.
And it was Hudson’s fault for asking us to
taco- eating and not Isabella.
And it was America’s fault for encouraging
middle schools to have dances.
It amazes me sometimes, how anybody could
ever think anything was my fault.
Anyway, I don’t want to think about it now.
I’m going to go back to reading about inventors.
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Monday 16
Dear Dumb Diary,
Aunt Carol’s wedding has also made Mom a
little bit insane. Dad keeps saying that weddings
can make everybody associated with them crazy,
and now I think he could be right. She keeps going
on and on about how happy she is that this person
or that person will be at the wedding.
I’m really not looking forward to seeing
people I haven’t seen in a long time because of the
inevitable conversation that will follow:
OLD GASBAG RELATIVE : Oh, hello, Janey.
ME: It’s Jamie.
OLD GASBAG RELATIVE: Oh, that’s
right. My goodness, you sure have grown.
ME: Grown what ?
OLD GASBAG RELATIVE: Flarby flurb
dee flub.
(Old Gasbag won’t really say that last line, but by
this time I will be facedown asleep in my dinner and
that’s what it will sound like to me .)
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After she was done chirping about the
wedding for a while, Mom got all smiley and squeaky
and started talking about me maybe having a new
little cousin to cuddle and kiss pretty soon.
At first I thought she meant Angeline, and
I became so psychologically freaked out that I
fainted a little. While Dad was getting ready to call
the hospital, Mom said that she meant that Aunt
Carol and Uncle Assistant Principal Devon might
have a baby one day, and THAT would be my new
kissy cousin.
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Then she explained that Angeline and I won’t
be cousins. When your aunt marries somebody else’s
uncle, it doesn’t make you related. NOT AT ALL.
DID YOU HEAR THAT, DUMB DIARY ?
NOT RELATED . NOT AT ALL.
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This is the best Angeline - related news I had
heard since that one time we thought she had head
lice. (Sadly, it turned out to be nothing more than
some butterflies that had been attracted to her
pleasant scent .)
Now don’t get me wrong, Angeline did NOT
crumble into a little pile of dust, so this isn’t like
Santa answered my last four letters or anything.
But still, This Is Really Good News !
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Tuesday 17
Dear Dumb Diary,
Today in science, Mrs. Palmer taught us about
a few of the Great Moments in Science that
were so great and momentou
s and significant to
humankind that they might deserve to be depicted
inside an old shoe box.
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Like, long ago, there was this one person who
decided that she was tired of walking everywhere.
So she caught a horse, saddled it, and forced it to
take her places.
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After that, other people decided that horses
weren’t good enough. They decided to force dirt to
turn into steel so they could bang it into cars, and
then pump oil out of the ground to run the cars so
that the cars could take them places.
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And now there are people who think that
cars aren’t environmental enough, and they plan to
build machines to turn corn into fuel that will power
the cars to take us places.
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I raised my hand and pointed out that we
could just feed the corn to the horses and solve a
few of our problems right there.
But here’s the thing, Dumb Diary. Teachers
SAY that they want you to participate and be
clever, but you have to time it just right, or they
think you’re being a smart -mouth. Mrs. Palmer was
right on the verge of making some BIG SCIENCE
POINT. I must have broken her train of thought
or something because she sent me on a made -up
errand to the office to see if she had any mail.
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I got there just in time to hear Aunt Carol
and Uncle Assistant Principal Devon in his office
shouting. I saw Aunt Carol come out and slam the
door. I could tell she had been crying a little.
I turned around and walked out of the office
before she saw me, because I thought she would
be embarrassed. Now I’m starting to think that
Assistant Principal Devon is a rat.
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I should probably not use the word