The Onion Presents a Book of Jean's Own!

by Jean Teasdale

  What inspired me to take my fashion cues from space aliens and insects? Well, it’s simple. Anyone who knows me knows that my life is all about spreading a little joy and whimsy to others! I’m sure I’ve brightened many a day with my funny little stunt! Also, they help me cope with the terrible shock I received after finding out that ultra-hunk of my dreams Patrick Swayze is married.

  I mean, when did this happen? I had no idea. I had never heard that Patrick Swayze had a wife. And I read People religiously! How could I have possibly missed this? And apparently he’s been married for, like, 15 years. Fifteen years? 1975? That’s sooooo long ago! (Like, when he was busy tying the knot, I was probably in my bedroom giving my Crissy doll a haircut!)

  So you can imagine how crushed I was when I caught this interview on Entertainment Tonight with Patrick Swayze, looking as yummalicious as ever, with this sleek-looking blonde lady. I bet she would never be caught dead in deely boppers (though I suppose a woman of her age shouldn’t be wearing them anyway! Hmmph!). Patrick Swayze and this lady looked all happy and cozy together. I bawled like a baby! Then I promptly medicated with a pint of chocolate Häagen-Dazs. But this die-hard choco-lover only felt bloated—and no less blue! Why, Patrick Swayze, why? (In case you didn’t notice, I like to refer to him by his entire name. That way I get to write it again and again! Patrick Swayze Patrick Swayze Patrick Swayze Patrick Swayze!)

  It’s true that Patrick Swayze and I come from different walks of life. He’s a studly Texas hoofer, and I get winded climbing the stairs in my mom’s house (where I still live). He’s a red-hot superstar, and thanks to a recently changed law (thanks, state legislature!), I’m not even old enough to drink. (Except for the occasional Brandy Alexander—don’t tell my mom!) But I still liked to think that I had a chance, however teeny. Also, I loved making my main squeeze, Boytoy Rick, jealous! Rick knows all about my thing for Mr. Swayze and it eats him up! He disapproves of male dancers, and always calls Patrick Swayze “Patrick Gayze.” Sheesh! Too bad Patrick Swayze doesn’t bottle and sell his classiness, because Rick could sure use some. Isn’t it obvious that deep down, the boytoy is green with envy? (Sometimes I think I should give this Rick Teasdale the old heave-ho. But then I remember how much fun it is to have him wrapped around my finger!)

  As I said, I felt down in the dumps about Patrick Swayze’s marital status. But then I thought, hey: There’s plenty of other hot young celebrity fish in the sea! There’s always C. Thomas Howell, and I hear this Richard Grieco guy scores high on the hunkitude. And, of course, not only Milli, but Vanilli! (I think I’ll pass on those “grunge” rockers, though—ewww!)

  Then I arrived at an even bigger thought: I’ve got my entire life ahead of me. Why concede defeat of any kind now? I’m only one year out of high school and more or less unattached (the boytoy and me aren’t that serious). I’m starting a new job next week at Heinie’s Bowl-It working at its shoe and concession booth (gee, wonder if they’ll let me wear my deely-boppers?), and I’m considering vocational school next year. But I have no concrete long-term plans, nor do I want any right now. The way I see it, I have loads of time to both acquire options and weigh them!

  So Patrick Swayze is hitched. Whoop-dee-doo! I’ve got at least a good 10, possibly 15 years of other hunk obsessions (Fabio, anyone?) ahead of me! Once this all dawned on me, out went the negative thoughts, and on went the deely boppers!

  So here’s to a bright future—a future so bright, I gotta wear deely boppers!

  * * *

  Boy, wasn’t junior Jean a real space cadet? I totally forgot about that deely boppers escapade. (They didn’t let me wear them at Heinie’s Bowl-It.) And to be honest, though I never really recovered from my disappointment over Patrick Swayze’s marital status, I kept fantasizing about him anyway—couldn’t help it! Plus I never went to vocational school, and I got married to Hubby Rick within weeks (“Boytoy Rick” sounds a little clumsy to the ear anyway!). And check out that rambling prose! Wow, I did tend to go on a bit, didn’t I? I’ve become a much better self-editor. Still, irresistible little time capsules like these serve to remind yourself where you came from, and how far you’ve gone!

  My Most Memorable False-Alarm Pregnancies!

  May 1986

  Might as well start off with my very first one! I was a high school sophomore, and Auntie Flo (tee-hee!) hadn’t paid a visit for two months. I also noticed that my jeans were getting tighter and tighter around the waist. I began to fret. True, I hadn’t been with a boy yet. (Back then, I was preserving my virtue for the blond Simon of Simon & Simon! RrrROWL!) But being Catholic, I wondered if some divine intervention had occurred! I never knowingly experienced an angel visiting me or a sunbeam lighting up my tummy, but just to be on the safe side and get into character, I’d recite the rosary and walk around my bedroom with a white bed sheet safety-pinned under my chin and a paper plate taped to the top of my head.

  Well, one day, without warning, my mom barged into my room with her laundry basket, and saw me and went ballistic because she thought I was making fun of religion. That forced me to have to explain my situation, and of course, my mom, being my mom, automatically feared the worse (“You’re so gullible, you’d do what any boy would tell you to, and shame me in the process!” she yelled—whatta cutup she is!). She immediately hauled me off to the urgent-care clinic. Long story short, the pregnancy test that my mom insisted on came up negative (of course), and boy, was the overworked doctor not happy to discover that I was still a virgo intacta (that’s fancy-talk for “nothing’s been fiddled with down there!!”)! He grumbled that carrying a few extra pounds sometimes made you, uh, gush less often down there. And just my luck—the very next day, the red menace (tee-hee again!) arrived. If it had only arrived twenty-four hours earlier, I would have been spared a lot of embarrassment! Oh well, it was so long ago that we can all laugh about it now!

  October 1995

  Okay, okay, I admit this one is pretty dumb! By this time, I had been married to Hubby Rick for a few years, but we were still known to make some pretty rough waves on the waterbed on occasion (hot-cha-cha)! One morning I decided to try out one of those home pregnancy tests, you know, the wand-like thing you make a wish and wee-wee on? So I almost turned a cartwheel when my pregnancy test read positive! At home that evening, I decided to surprise Rick by placing the wand among his take-out french fries when he wasn’t looking. He bit into it and nearly cracked a tooth! Naturally that freaked him out a tad, but before he could sue Hardee’s, I told him that I had stuck it in there. After about half-a-minute or so of cursing, Mr. Sophisticated asked me what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks this thing was. “Silly!” I replied. “This told me this morning that a little Jean is on the way!”

  I never saw Rick move so fast as he did driving me to the twenty-four-hour drugstore and making me buy a new test. (He was sweating like the Bridal Veil Falls was tumbling over him, and even more remarkable, he didn’t even bother to finish his Hardee’s!) He was up at the crack of dawn and practically dragged me out of bed and sat me on the toilet. Once again it read positive. “I don’t see anything,” Rick said. “You sure?” “Of course,” I said. “No line means preggers!” I got kind of annoyed when Rick immediately started fishing through the trash for the box the test came in—boy, he’s a support, isn’t he?

  Well, turns out Rick’s skepticism was valid after all. See, I thought no line on the display meant positive—you know, a line usually means minus, or negative, right? Guess I should have read the instructions more carefully. Guess I should have read the instructions!

  Thankfully, these days they’ve come up with some pretty goof-proof pregnancy tests—they all but hit you on the head with the result! I haven’t made this mistake ever since. That second test also marked the first and so far last time I’ve seen Rick cry. Well, cry and giggle with joy at the same time.

  May 1998

  I was glowing—radiant even! People at work noticed it, too. They remarked on how rosy and unblemished my skin was. Som
e even asked if I stopped putting five tablespoons of coffee in my sugar every morning (no typo!). Yet I hadn’t changed a thing about my diet. Instead, I just felt really good that month—spring was in full, fragrant force, the lilacs were blooming, the robins were out doing their robin stuff, and, oh, I don’t know, I just felt like I shared in their joy, too, like I was a small but essential part of the world, too. I started to think about ducks hatching ducklings, bunnies having baby bunnies, and honeybees dividing into baby honeybees, or however baby honeybees are made. I’m very much in touch with my feelings, and it dawned on me that maybe all these warm sentiments were telling me that something wonderful was going on inside me too. It was a totally blissed-out feeling, one I’ve only experienced a couple times in my life. Also, when I feel this way, I shop.

  And boy, did I shop! To the tune of $1,896.72! That was the combined price of the nursery furniture, the baby clothes and accessories, and the sales tax and delivery costs of same! Yeah, this time I was so sure that, before taking a pregnancy test or going to the doctor or anything, I whipped out the plastic and splurged the splurge of my life! I tried to buy sale items when I could, but I just couldn’t resist that full-price lace christening gown, that darling Disney Babies crib mobile, or a lamp that plays music as it projects stars on the wall, or a doorway swing with pink plush cushions. (My feelings were also telling me the baby was a girl!) I was dizzy with excitement. I couldn’t believe that I, too, was buying and owning the same things I’ve seen people with babies flaunt! If there’s anything that comes closest to a Teasdalian heroin rush, it was signing that purchase receipt for the changing table. I lost all concept of space and time, not to mention budget!

  It didn’t take Hubby Rick too long to figure out the credit card had been maxed out (he was rejected for a routine purchase of Slim Jims and WD-40). But before he could scream at me upon entering our apartment, the words were knocked right out of his mouth by all the cardboard boxes and plastic shopping bags taking up the living room! Instead, he just stared at me with an expression that I’d never seen on him before, and it didn’t change for a long time, not even as I triumphantly explained my condition to him and how it was so important to get a head-start in readying for a baby. Rick said nothing, then uttered quietly, “I think you should turn around and use the john, Jean.” I was puzzled, then followed his eyeballs down to the place they had settled. As I emerged from the bathroom freshly tamponed and my stained sweatpants soaking in the sink, I noticed that Rick’s face had slackened and turned gray. I’m not sure if it changed any more colors, as it was pretty hard to look him in11 the face afterwards.

  No doubt, I should have thought before I bought. Certainly, had I known the only thing that would pop out of my oven was a blood pudding, I wouldn’t have embarked on my little escapade! Fortunately, most items were returnable, though it was an awful hassle hoisting them back into the car and calling stores to cancel deliveries for the stuff that hadn’t arrived yet. But I don’t think you Jeanketeers will hold it against me too much that I held on to a few baby clothes and toys. (They’re still in a cardboard box marked “Someday…”)

  February 2000

  This was the time I had pseudocyesis! It’s a rare medical condition; the most famous example was some English queen who reigned thousands of years ago. Pseudocyesis is a fancy term for “your body is a pregnancy prankster!” My belly swelled up, my joints hurt, I suffered morning sickness, the works! Sure, I was pretty blue when I found out my symptoms were all false. But what mostly made up for it was all the attention I received! My physician, Dr. Plimm, was pretty amazed. He had previously assumed pseudocyesis was a mythical disorder. He actually took me to a nearby medical college to have some people there examine me. I think he invited some interns from the hospital to sit in, too. (Even the doctor guy who hosted the “Cheers to Your Health!” segment on TV News 12 was there! Though he didn’t bring a camera crew, which to this day I have mixed feelings about.) I even got to go to Minneapolis for a couple days to be poked and prodded by a couple specialists. I stayed at a nice hotel and everything! I also own a couple copies of the medical journal I was featured in, though I’ve never been able to get through the article—after all, I’m no Alberta Einstein!

  I always wanted to be associated with something rare, or better yet, do something completely unique, but I was thinking more along the lines of finding a treasure chest or being able to fly! We’re all special, it’s true, but I hope this wasn’t my only crack at being super-special!

  March 2004

  My period was more of a question mark, and I had been having dizziness and numbness spells for several weeks. Which only meant one thing: Road trip to Gymboree! Well, after conferring with a store clerk, who had previously only known me as a wistful browser, on a newborn layette and getting on a baby-shower registry, I did something rather unusual for me—I passed out. One emergency-room visit and hasty appointment with Dr. Plimm later, I discovered my symptoms were due to—get ready—Type 2 diabetes! Boy, was my face red! (And my wee-wee sugary!)

  In the years since, I’ve become a pretty good blood-checker and insulin-injector, but I still haven’t produced a Mini-Me pitter-pattering her little feet about Casa Teasdale. My biological clock is still ticking (though often it seems like it’s flashing “12:00 a.m.” in red LCD letters!). All I can say is, keep watching that clock, Jeanketeers!

  Things I Have Burned, by Hubby Rick

  More Jean Teasdale “Fun” Fiction!

  Part 2: If I Was Elected President (Hey, It Could Happen!)

  The U.S. Capitol, Washington, D.C.

  January 2021

  My fellow Americans,

  First of all, let me warmly thank you for entrusting me with the highest office in the land. Believe me when I say that, as the first female president of the United States, I do not take my mandate to govern lightly. And by electing me to the White House with more than 90 percent of the popular vote, you have told me in no uncertain terms that change must come, and I will do my utmost to bring it. I intend to exercise my political capital to the fullest, for the benefit of all Americans.

  (Huge applause)

  First of all, I hereby declare by executive order that all Americans, regardless of color, creed, gender, or age, are required to have fun at least four hours every weekday, and six hours on Saturday and Sunday. Whether it’s flying kites, pulling taffy, or rearranging your stuffed animal collection, fun activities should not be considered a privilege for a few, but a right for all!

  (Huge applause)

  All workaholics found to be violating this order will face a hefty monetary fine, or must administer mandatory foot-rubs to random fun-havers chosen in a lottery based on Social Security numbers.

  (Applause)

  Secondly, all fit people must put on a minimum of 15 pounds. You’ve made the rest of us feel inadequate and uncomfortable long enough.

  (Huge applause)

  Thirdly, I will establish a program that will bring inexpensive and delicious chocolate to the sugar-deprived in the poor and war-torn nations of the Third World. Isn’t it about time these unfortunates got a sweet-treat break?

  (Cheers of agreement, applause)

  There is more. My vice-president, beloved talk-show host and media mogul Oprah Winfrey, known more popularly as “Oprah,” will also serve on my Cabinet as Esteem Czar, a move I’m sure will delight every human being in the United States.

  (Cheers, chants of “Oprah! Oprah! Oprah!”)

  All world leaders who promote warfare and genocide will be rounded up by our armed forces and finally put in a small room where they can fight it out. This has been discussed for countless generations, but I’m finally making it a reality!

  (Deafening applause)

  I’m not done yet, my fellow Americans. I will also authorize funds to construct a memorial in Washington, D.C., consecrated to those who have devoted and even sacrificed their lives to furthering the cause of cuteness.

  (Applause)

 
Inspired by the example of the nation’s new First Man, Hubby Rick…

  (Applause mixed with boos)

  …all qualifying American males will be enrolled in a mandatory remedial romance course, so that they may finally acquire valuable and lasting skills in pleasing—and pleasuring—their mates!

  (Cheers mixed with gasps, oohs, ahhs, and nervous giggles)

  Every two months, the wonderful mommies of our great land, who are the very bedrock of society, will get a Saturday off solely to relax and indulge themselves, while all childless American women between the ages of fourteen to seventy will babysit their children! And if these childless women are anything like me, they’re absolutely thrilled to undertake such a great privilege and noble task! After all, who doesn’t loooove kids?

  (Roars of approval)

  Now, I know that there are some of you, a small minority but an assertive one nonetheless, who are critical of my policies. Some of you do not enjoy cute things. Some of you feel that a 15-pound weight gain could pose health hazards to some. Some of you believe that the government should not play a role in the romantic rehabilitation of errant hubbies.

  (Some booing and hissing)

  Now, now. I know that the overwhelming majority of you reject this ideology. But this is a time for malice towards none and charity for all. Let me say that while I cannot admit I completely understand the opposing positions, I respect the feelings of those who espouse them, and I reach out my hand in warm friendship. I hope to work closely with leaders of the opposition, and to reassure them that their misgivings will fade during my term. We have much to learn from each other, but I believe an open mind and a judicious belief in compromise can only benefit our nation in the long term. This will be the driving and overarching point in the mass reeducation retreats my administration will be opening throughout the country, so that skeptics may grow to understand and appreciate my policies and viewpoint. All of this will become clearer as time passes.