Raisin Rodriguez & the Big-Time Smooch (5 page)

If all goes well, I should have my invitation by tomorrow, and then I'm set.

. . . Once I ask Samantha to borrow that beautiful green velvet dress of hers.

PS—And the beautiful blue satin ballet flats that go with it.

PPS—With the matching bag.

PPPS—And of course, no outfit is complete without that beautiful blond hair she's always wearing.

 
Logged in at 7:58 PM, EST

Here Kitty, Kitty,

Boob hair? That is SO disgusting.

But I'm not really one to talk. Because you know what I have? Zits.

It's like a nation of pimples have decided to colonize my T zone. I must show them who's boss. I must get them to leave in time for Roger Morris's bar mitzvah. I have to look perfect for CJ.

And ignore the fact that his other girlfriend, Dylan the superhero with the heart-shaped belt, looks perfect every day.

 
11:46 AM, EST

The blemishes will be gone before dawn.

Yes, problem-free Raisin has done it again! I've devised a solution that's so simple, yet so brilliant, I wonder why nobody's tried it before me.

First, I cleaned the problem area with Stridex medicated pads. Next, I carefully applied Clearasil to every zit. And then (here's where my geniousity shines through) for extra protection, I took more of the Stridex pads and taped them to my face with Band-Aids. How smart am I? By tomorrow I should have a peaches-and-cream complexion.

 
12:09 PM, EST

That tingly feeling lets me know they're working.

 
1:12 PM, EST

And that burning sensation lets me know that they're doing a really thorough job.

 
1:33 PM, EST

I think my face is on fire.

I never thought I'd say this, but I think I owe that roly-poly little sister of mine my life.

When she saw my face, she burst into tears. I couldn't calm her down, so eventually my mother came to see what all the commotion was about.

When she saw the pads taped to my face, she ordered me to take them off. The good news is that the zits are gone. The bad news is that there's a gigantic bright red T burned into my face.

My mom gave me aloe to slather on it and aspirin to take down the swelling. My head feels like it's on fire. Over the course of three days, I've managed to ruin my face and my hair. The only thing left is my body. Maybe I should down several gallons of Chunky Monkey and two dozen boxes of Dunkaroos and see what that does for my waistline. No wonder CJ doesn't love me. I'm one of those don't-let-this-happen-to-you ladies you see in the back of fashion magazines. All I need is a black bar over my eyes.

Next time I have a brilliant idea, I'll have to remind myself that it's probably stupid.

 
3:30 PM, EST

I just checked my mailbox and no invitation. What if I'm really not invited?

 
Logged in at 8:31 PM, EST

Kitty Cats,

My mother let me wear makeup today. Only foundation to cover up the T, but it's a start.

Sort of.

I mean, to be honest, I look exactly the way I would if I weren't wearing makeup and I didn't have the T. I'd much rather be wearing something that makes you look beautiful and glamorous. Like mascara or eye shadow or one of those lip glosses that makes your lips look more kissable. I guess if I want to wear fun makeup like that, next time I'll have to tape medicated pads to my eyes or mouth.

Off to school. Hopefully when I come back, my invitation will be waiting for me.

 
10:08 PM, EST

Turns out my kiss with CJ is one of many reasons I need to go to that bar mitzvah. Roger Morris isn't just wealthy like Samantha said. He's downright rich. Rich, I tell you! Here's what Lynn said would be in his gift bags:

And last but not least

5. An iPod!

Yes, you heard me correctly. An iPod! Just what every thirteen-year-old needs to feel like they fit in. Like they belong. Like they're just as cool as the next guy. And like they're willing to fork over lots and lots of money to prove it.

Also, it's at the Spectrum, which is just like Madison Square Garden except in Philadelphia. And there's going to be a disco, an ice-skating rink, bumper cars, and a world-famous rock band whose identity is to be kept secret. Plus food from all over the world, including a sushi bar, a fajita station, gourmet pizza, and lobster, which isn't even kosher, but it's okay because Roger's parents have a special arrangement with their rabbi.

And a make-your-own-sundae table.

This bar mitzvah sounds like it's going to be the most amazing time in the history of amazing times. I want to make history too!

 
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Logged in at 10:20 PM, EST

Kitties!

Still no invitation! Last night I asked Lynn if I could be her date and she told me that bar mitzvahs didn't work that way. You can't just bring a date.

I realized I had to take matters in to my own hands, so during homeroom I found Roger and tried to give him the hint.

“I really love bar mitzvahs, Roger,” I told him. “It's weird because there were so many in Berkeley, but no one seems to be having any in Philadelphia.”

But all he said was, “Weird.”

Cats!

I had a brilliant idea. Last night I went to the mall with Samantha and got a gift certificate to Big & Tall. I'm going to leave it in Roger's locker with a birthday card and then he'll have to invite me.

 
12:43 PM, EST

Roger said, “Thank you for the gift.”

He did not say, “Please come to my bar mitzvah.”

Tomorrow's Thanksgiving, so today's the last day of school before the bar mitzvah. What should I do?

 
5:53 PM, EST

That's it. It's no use. No matter what I do, I can't get myself invited to Roger's bar mitzvah. I came up with the brilliant idea of offering to cover the event in my CoolerThanYou entertainment column. And you know what he said? He said, “That's okay, The Philadelphia Inquirer is already going to be there.”

So once again I'm not going to be able to have my kiss with CJ. And once again I'm not going to be able to keep him away from Dylan the underwear model and her comedic stylings.

 
Comments:

 
7:57 PM, EST

Doesn't that seem desperate, Pi?

 
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8:17 PM, EST

Good point.

Gobble Gobble, Kitties!

A Very Special Thanksgiving

Raisin: Hi, Roger. This is Raisin. Okay, this is a little weird, but I know that your bar mitzvah is on Saturday and that you invited the whole grade. Well, the thing is, I'm also part of the grade, but I didn't get an invitation, so I was wondering if—

Roger: (interrupting) I thought I already invited you.

Raisin: Oh. You didn't.

Roger: Okay, right. The invitations went out the last week of summer vacation. Before I knew you.

Raisin: Well, you know me now. . . .

Roger: True. Okay, you can come.

Raisin: Thank you, thank you, thank you sooooo m—

Roger: (interrupting again) Can I go back to the football game now?

Raisin: Sure.

Roger: Okay, 'bye.

 
5:56 PM, EST

A Very Special Thanksgiving, Part II

Horse Ass: Let's all go around the table and name something we're thankful for. I'll start. This has been a very special year for me. Not only did I marry the most wonderful woman in the world, I got her two beautiful daughters along with the package. In the business world, this would be called “getting a good deal.” (HA chuckles to himself; more business jokes I don't get or want to get. Blah, blah, blah . . .) “Raisin, how'd you like to go next?”

Raisin: (clears her throat) I'm sorry, I've been chewing on the same piece of celery for like seven minutes now and it won't go down. Can someone else go first?

HA: Sam, I know you feel as lucky as I do to have completed our “merger” (heh, heh, heh). Would you like to say a few words about it?

Sam: Actually, Dad, I'm not feeling very well. Can I go to my room?

HA: (looking very disappointed) Sure, sweetheart. We'll miss you.

Sam: Mind if I take my plate with me? Y'know, just in case I get hungry?

Sam shovels extra portions of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce onto her plate and excuses herself to her room. Raisin has never seen Sam eat that much food in all the meals they've eaten together combined.

HA: Raisin, are you ready yet?

Lola: (pounding on the table) No! It's my turn. My turn. MyturnmyturnmyturnmyturnmyturnMY! TURN!

HA: Raisin?

HA looks to Raisin for the go-ahead. Raisin nods. HA in turn gives Lola the go-ahead.

Lola: It is NOT my turn.

Mom: (feeling very uncomfortable for HA) Horace, dear, the turkey's getting cold. Why don't we all just take a private moment to think about what we're grateful for and then dig in?

 
10:56 PM, EST

A Very Special Thanksgiving, Part III

Raisin: (Standing in the adjoining bathroom she shares with Sam. Knocks on Sam's bedroom door. Doesn't wait for Sam's response before entering.) Sam, Mom wants to know how—

Suddenly Raisin sees that Sam is not alone. In fact, she is sitting on her boyfriend Sid's lap. But quickly jumps off.

Sam: (whisper-shouts) Raisin! The rule is that until that lock is fixed, everyone has to wait until I answer before they can come in.

Raisin: (eyes welling up with tears) I forgot. I'm sorry.

Sam: Forget it. It's fine. Just swear to me you won't tell our parents.

Raisin: I swear I won't. I mean, I've never said a word up until now, so why would I start?

Sam: Okay. Fine. Just don't slip up.

Raisin turns to walk out of the room, then has a really smart idea.

Raisin: Hey, Sam? You know that green velvet dress you have? The one with the jacket that ties in a satin bow and the matching skirt? Do you think I could borrow it for Roger's bar mitzvah?

Sam: But it's way too big for you.

Raisin: My mom could shorten it.

Sam: (looking very annoyed) Whatever. Just don't tell anyone about Sid and we'll call it even.

Raisin: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

 
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Logged in at 11:14 PM, EST

 
Logged in at 11:16 PM, EST

Shalom, Kitties,

Shalom—what an interesting word. The Torah, the Hebrew Old Testament, teaches us that this beautiful word has three meanings: “peace,” “hello,” and “goodbye.”