Too Real Thursday: Guest Blogger LEILA SALES

Those of you who haven't yet read Leila Sales' Mostly Good Girls are in for a treat when you get your hands on this hilarious and heartfelt portrayal of the agonies and ecstasies of the high school experience. Those of you who have read it already know that Leila is laugh-out-loud funny. Who better to share with us a tale of high school woe, then, on this nearly-summer-Friday? 

A prevailing theme in my novel Mostly Good Girls is “not knowing any boys, and therefore behaving like a total fool whenever you happen to run into them, because they are a rare and exotic breed.”

            

Like Violet and Katie in Mostly Good Girls, I went to an all-girls high school, so, like Violet and Katie, I had only humiliating experiences with boys until I was 18 years old (and sometimes still to this day).

For example, one afternoon when we were seniors, three of my friends and I went to Pizzeria Uno. Our waiter was a unremarkable-looking college-aged guy. We ordered a large cheese pizza and Diet Cokes, and we giggled uncontrollably whenever our waiter walked by, and then at the end of the meal we left him a note on a napkin that said, “We love you.”

            

Why did we do this? I honestly do not know, but I’m sure we made this average-looking dude’s life. I imagine that even now, at the age of 32, he goes around telling the story of how four teenage girls once fell in love with him on sight. We probably warped his self-perception forever.

            

This is not, incidentally, the most mortifying thing that my friends and I ever did to a boy. It’s just the most mortifying thing that I am allowed to talk about without my best friend (to whom I dedicated Mostly Good Girls) screaming at me, “Shut up! I hate that story! Everyone respects us less when you tell that story!”

            

There are many significant benefits to an all-girls education, and I remain tremendously grateful that I had that experience; however, as Violet remarks in my book “talking to boys without choking on my own saliva” is not a major part of the curriculum.

First off: that story makes me respect you MORE, Leila!

And secondly: ZOMG, do I wish I had know you in high school. 

Misery loves company, right?

 

Too Real Thursday: Guest Blogger DEB CALETTI

I was a young editorial assistant at Simon & Schuster when the manuscript for a book called The Queen of Everything came to an acquisitions meeting. Though I wasn't working for the acquiring editor, it was easy to see why our whole department was buzzing at the prospect of adding this amazing new talent to our list. 
That's just one reason why I'm so excited to welcome Deb Caletti to the blog today. Her latest novel, Stay, released in April, and she's here to regale us with a Too-Real tale of her own!

While I can’t claim to have run to a remote beach town to escape an obsessive boyfriend like Clara does in STAY, I can admit to something else that happens to Clara in the book:  I have been subjected to the embarrassing, excessive enthusiasm of my parents. 

The scene in the book, where Clara’s father asks Finn Bishop, the adorable sailor, where Clara can get a job as she stands nearby, cringing - well, it could have happened to me.  When I was a teen, my sister and I would be regularly humiliated by the frequent, lengthy conversations my dad would have with salespeople, bystanders, and the guy just our age bringing the groceries to the car.  If it was your birthday, watch out.  Every possible singing waiter would be informed, especially if he was really cute.  The singing waiter would, yes, sing to you (sometimes, oh please no, while you were wearing a sombrero), AND the singing waiter would be told how old you were, where you went to school, and whatever other get-acquainted facts my father thought would be helpful.  He loved this.  He thought this was terrific.  My father would also stand on chairs to get a good picture of us, during school plays or graduations. 

My mother, too, had her own mortifying gusto.  She worked at our high school.  She was friends with every stoner and scary mean girl.  They loved her, probably because she looked out for the underdog and was protective to a fault.  She once yelled at full volume down the street at my cheating high school boyfriend, after he went off with Carla Cummings.  When my sister left for high school without her lunch one day, my mother drove to school and delivered it to her, right in front of the group of tough kids smoking cigarettes on the corner. 

My father will STILL stand on a chair to get photos of me at book signings and talks (great photos, by the way).  My mother will STILL be there with lunch, or defense, or a listening ear whenever I need it (a great listening ear, too.)  I’ve come to realize that their sometimes embarrassing enthusiasm meant one huge thing: they were (and are) there for me.  Really there.  All the way, one hundred percent there.  And even if this sometimes means one hundred and fifty percent there - I can only say to them, thanks, guys.   Thank you so much.  Your enthusiastic support has made all the difference in my life.   

No sombreros this year, though, okay?       

(Of course, now I'm suddenly DYING to see Deb in a sombrero!) 

Thanks so much for sharing, Deb, and congrats on the new book!

So tell us, readers - what's the most embarrassing situation your parents have put you through?!  

TOO REAL THURSDAY: It's hubby's fault!

Time for another edition of Too Real Thursday, when authors share a moment in their lives that got a little too real for comfort.

 Today we welcome Janette Rallison, author of such popular YA novels IT'S A MALL WORLD AFTER ALL, HOW TO TAKE THE EX OUT OF EX-BOYFRIEND, MY FAIR GODMOTHER and JUST ONE WISH. WARNING: If you haven't yet experienced the pain miracle of childbirth, please, don't be put off for life by this!

"I don't know nuthin' bout birthin' babies!"

Over to Janette: When I think about it, pretty much my entire teenage life consisted of a string of embarrassing moments. I can’t blame fate for all of my humiliation though. A lot of it was due to the clueless way I blundered through life. In the long run, these events actually proved useful since they provide me plenty of fodder for my teen novels.

 But my most embarrassing moment didn’t happen in my teen years and wasn’t even my fault. It was my husband’s. I had just given birth to our son, and like any proud father he was snapping pictures of our newborn baby nestled in my arms. I hate to be graphic here since many of the blog readers haven’t given birth yet and don’t know all of the charming intricacies of the event. So I’ll just say the doctor was still sewing up a part of my body that any normal woman wouldn’t want photographed.

From Blogger Pictures

But my husband inadvertently did photograph it. And he got the pictures developed without ever realizing how much one of those photos revealed.

Then he took the photos to work to show all of his colleagues. I didn’t see the photos until the next day and I was horrified that he had a picture where I flashed the camera instead of the other way around. “How could you take a picture of me like this?” I demanded.

 He looked at the photo, seeing all of it for the first time. “Oh. Sorry.” 

“You showed this to your co-workers?” I asked, hyperventilating.

 “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re all engineers. They probably didn’t notice.”

I hope he’s right about that. Still, every time I go to one of his office functions, I wonder.

Sarah here: My favorite part of this story? Hubby's response - "They're all engineers. They probably didn't notice." My ex-hubby trained as an engineer. I was ROTFLMAO! Anyway, y'all will be happy to hear that Janette forgave her hubby for his inadvertent attempt at making her the office porn queen. As she says: "Janette did not kill her husband and in fact subsequently had three more children. Her husband was considerably more cautious with his photographs."

From Blogger Pictures

Janette's latest book is MY DOUBLE LIFE.

From Blogger Pictures

Check out the trailer!
 

Too Real Thursday: Kay Cassidy and Senior Traditions

Welcome to the first edition of Too Real Thursday, when authors share a moment in their lives that got a little too real for comfort.



First up is Kay Cassidy, author of The Cinderella Society, who was once quite the prankster:



"My high school didn't have a lot of traditions, but many of the traditions we did have seemed to revolve around the end of school. That was especially true Senior year. Our Senior All-Night Party was definitely memorable. It was an all-night lock-in at the high school just for graduating Seniors. Our parents put it on and the school housed things like a swim party, a casino, and tons of other cool stuff. (And food. Mmm, the food.)



"But what was most memorable for me was actually an unofficial tradition. It was called The Senior Last Day of School Shaving Cream Fight in the Parking Lot. Or TSLDOSSCFITPL for short. (I'm totally making that up.) This event always started very innocently in the school parking lot as Seniors were heading to their cars on the last day of school for Seniors. At my high school, Seniors actually got done a day or two before the rest of the student body. I don't know why this was. Anyway, on our last day, we headed to the parking lot and kind of mulled around chatting, waiting for 'the shot heard round the lot.' As soon as someone pulled the first shaving cream trigger, it was a free for all. Everyone would whip out their shaving cream cans from their cars and try to completely cover anyone within shooting distance. Nothing was sacred – people, bikes, cars. It was all fair game.



"The reason I remember this so vividly (other than this picture which, no, you may not use as blackmail, thankyouverymuch) is that the year I graduated was the year that baby oil foam was introduced. (Is that even still around?) So a lot of people had baby oil spray cans instead of shaving cream cans. Which didn't strike me as a problem until I went home and tried to shower off all the shaving cream foam. Did you know baby oil foam is very… oily? You probably guessed that from the name. If you did, you are officially more on the ball than I apparently was. Imagine having a layer several inches thick of baby oil foam in your hair and trying desperately to shampoo it out before a big event.



"Did I mention our last day was followed by Prom? I didn't? That's probably because I've blocked that horrible fact from my mind.



"I had to wash my hair so many times I thought it would fall out and I would forever be known as That Bald Girl at the Prom Whose Hair Was Shinier Than Her Dress (and this was the 80s, so my dress was WAY shiny). Even with all that lathering, rinsing and repeating, my hair still had an unnatural sheen to it when I donned my prom dress. Thank goodness I have all those nice prom pictures to preserve that little nightmare."



What about you? What's your most recent Too Real moment?