Showing posts with label lizzie mcguire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lizzie mcguire. Show all posts

Monday, November 23, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Birthday Miley, Happy Happy Joy Joy

by Pam Ripling

Shout out to Miley Cyrus, who’s celebrating her 17th birthday today. I’ve always been fond of Billy Ray’s likable offspring. Were I a teen, I’d covet that gorgeous blonde wig she dons as Hannah Montana, her teenish-sultry singing voice, her down-home practical girl television persona. I was glad she was the influence-of-the-day for my young daughter a few years back, when Lizzie McGuire (Hilary Duff) faded into that neverland of ex-Disney pre-adult stardom. And yes, I know, Miley's fallen from grace for some, due to some campy photos she's posed for. She's a teen, they all do it, get over it. Each of these girls are unique and beautiful.

So what is my unique talent? I stumble on that word, “unique” because it denotes a sense of, well, a little bragginess. I don’t like to be braggy, like Sister Berenstain Bear. I like to think that I’m good at a few things, but I’d never go so far as to call myself unique. After all, doesn’t that mean something like, “one of a kind?” Here are a few things that might be “different”-- albeit not unique. (Taking deep breath.)
  • I rarely, if ever, get writer’s block
  • I don’t hate our president
  • My kids all respect me
  • I’ve dreamed of being a 1940’s starlet
  • I’m extremely tolerant of diversities
  • I don’t like licorice
  • My father was a stand-in for Clark Gable (okay, that last one was about Dad, not me, but still...)

Oh, I once toured a huge popstar’s home with his fiancĂ©e just because I knocked on the door and she let me in (a perk of growing up in N. Hollywood.) Talk about a dream come true! That was a truly unique experience.

I know, it’s a rag-tag list, but I don’t care, because I can almost smell the turkey and cranberries, which distorts my ability to write a uniquely decent blog on a Monday morning...

Wishing you all a wonderful day of gratitude!



Pam Ripling is the author of middle-grade mystery, LOCKER SHOCK! Buy it at Quake, Fictionwise or Amazon today! E-book version now available for your Kindle! Visit Pam at www.BeaconStreetBooks.com.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Just Don't Mess With My Radio!

by Pam Ripling

Coming clean. I did it. I ripped Barbie's head off. And it was my sister's Barbie. BUT... this was after she broke my phenomenal, brand-new clock radio!

Normally, you could put Barbie's head back on, but I think, no, I know, I did irreparable damage that day, and the little bubble-headed bleach blonde couldn't keep her head in place ever again. My sister never forgave me. (Well, maybe a little.)

Why do we do it? Is it attention we need? It must be a common problem, because TV sitcoms have been pitting sibling against sibling for decades. From Beaver and Wally Cleaver to Drake (and Josh) and Megan. Lizzie McGuire had Matt, Hannah Montana has Jackson.

It all actually started a long time ago, before television families even existed. One of the first stories in the Bible (generally considered the oldest book in Western civilization) is about the rivalry between two famous brothers, Cain and Abel. Cain, the older, complained about having to take care of Abel, demanding to know, "Am I my brother's keeper?" This story doesn't end well, by the way.

My story does. The radio still worked, although I had to bang on it a bit. And a bit of tape helped Barbie stay sane. My sister and I are the best of friends, despite years of competition for attention. Most people will tell you that time heals all sibling-inflected wounds. Too bad Cain couldn't wait around to find that out.

Pam Ripling is the author of middle-grade mystery, LOCKER SHOCK! Buy it at Quake, Fictionwise or Amazon today! E-book version now available for your Kindle! Visit Pam at www.BeaconStreetBooks.com.