Dana's Secret Diary

Dear Diary,

It’s been, hold on let me look. Oh my God, it’s been almost twenty years since I last wrote. Is that right? Where has the time gone? God, I sound like my grandmother.

Okay, so here I sit in the middle of my living room, doing what you ask? Going through a box of memorabilia when I should be packing for my trip, which I’m leaving for in…holy shit! We leave in seven hours. Which means we need to be at the airport in five hours. Which means we all need to be up in three hours. Fuck! Wait, I just noticed that I wrote the word “we” like a zillion times. God that feels good. I haven’t been part of a real “we” in a long time. My new family means the world to me. More on that later.

So anyway, I found you, Diary, and I started reading through some of my old entries (very disturbing by the way). I had no idea how much I used to torment the boys in school. But the dickwads deserved it for pointing at my boobs and laughing when I tried to run in gym class. Asswipes!

When I finally read the last entry in this diary, I was surprised to find the “Sassy Girl Survey.” Who came up with these questions? God, fourth grade girls are the most idiotic of all.

I literally laughed out loud at my answers from twenty years ago and had to cover my mouth to keep from waking everyone up. So, I thought it would be fun to take the survey again, even though I should have my fat ass in bed right now. Umm, bed…yes, Peter. Okay, stop! I should be SLEEPING right now, but instead I’m going take a stab at this stupid ass “Sassy Girl Survey” again and compare my answers to those I gave over two decades ago. Uggh. Two decades? Fuck, I’m old. Okay, this should be fun.

Welcome to the Sassy Girl Survey. All your answers are confidential and therefore must be truthful and honest. Trust me, no one will see this except me!

Okay, I must interject here. That is the biggest load of horse shit I’ve heard in a long time. Becky Becker was a bitch. Yeah, we teased the shit out of her, yelling, “Becky Becker, come suck my pecker!” We were idiots. Of course, they teased me too, saying, “Dana Di Grazio, come suck my nazio.” Whatever the fuck that meant. Sounded kind of anti-Semitic if you asked me, but I was nine and really had no clue. My FAVORITE nickname of all in elementary school was “Big Tits Dana.” Wow. Really? It took you what, all of two seconds to come up with that one? Fourth grade boys are total douches!

Anyway, back to the survey. Becky Becker was the biggest liar, back-stabber, snitch, all around ultra bitch in school. I have absolutely NO idea what ever possessed me to fill this survey out in the first place back in the fourth grade, let alone be honest. I remember passing the survey off to Hindley that afternoon. Thank God she was smart enough NOT to fill it out, but that was AFTER she’d already handed it back to Becky with all my answers written in PERMANENT ink.

The next day I told Becky I wanted the survey back, to scratch out some of my answers. I should have known that twat waffle was up to something when she nonchalantly handed it back, no questions asked. By that afternoon at recess, all the boys were screaming, “Dana D. wants to blow your Oscar Meyer meat whistle!”

The minute those words echoed throughout the playground, I knew exactly what Bitch Becky had done and why they were screaming it. My answer to question number 8, “What’s your favorite meal?” My answer? Macaroni and cheese with weenies. I guess it was the “weenie” reference that had those little pecker-head boys all rock hard and hell bent on revenge. Why were they hell bent on revenge, you ask? Two words. Nathan Owens.

You see, just three weeks earlier I’d totally fucked over Nathan’s world as a dude. He was the biggest asshole in the entire school, and I’m sure he probably ended up marrying Bitchy Becky Becker, (who probably never sucked his pecker).

Anyway, Nathan was the first guy to start calling me derogatory names about my very large breasts. To get him back, I followed him into the restroom one afternoon and watched as he pulled down his pants, his white little ass cheeks glowing in the mid-afternoon sunshine that was gleaming through the window above our heads. He was just finishing up his golden flow when I whispered, “What’s your dick look like, Nate?” He twirled around like a ballerina, and there in front of my eyes stood the weirdest looking penis I’d ever seen. Okay, technically, it was only the second penis I’d ever seen; my brother’s being my first. But it was so fucked up looking, I thought he was holding up some sort of distorted piece of clay.

I started screaming and pointing, which made him start screaming. In his haste to pull up his pants, he got his dick caught in his zipper, which made him scream even louder, which made both fourth grade teachers rush into the boys’ bathroom, along with half our classes.

By the time it was all said and done, both Nate and I were in the nurse’s office. Me, from hyperventilating, fearing that Nate’s dick had been chewed on a by a toothless homeless woman (that’s what I thought a blow job would do to a dick, seriously). Nate, from serious gouges to his pecker brought on from the zipper attack to his crotch. 

Looking back, I have to admit, the whole thing was priceless, and I’m sure our teachers had a field day retelling the events of that day for years. Even now, I’m sitting here wiping away tears from my cheeks because I’m laughing so hard. But back then I was mortified and scared shitless, fearing that freaky-ass dick of Nathan’s was what I had to look forward to one day.

Fortunately, my mother explained to me that Nathan’s dick just wasn’t circumcised like my brother Sam’s was. I didn’t know what the fuck that meant so my “Lay All Your Cards on the Table” mother decided it best to SHOW me. What the fuck, Adele? (That’s my mom.)  

To this day, I still have no idea where she found nudies of two dicks, one circumcised, one not, but she did. And she proceeded to show them to me in the middle of our living room, thankfully before our father got home from work. She said I was going to see pictures of a penis anyway in fifth grade sex ed class, so I might as well see it now. Fuck! That scarred me for life, and still to this day, I fear that when a man drops his pants, I will see that same horrific dick of Nathan’s. The one that looks like someone chewed on a big wad of bubble gum for a week before spitting it out and sticking it on the head of his penis. Gross fucker! All I can say is, thank you Jews for circumcision.

Okay, so back to the survey. Here goes nothing.

1. NAME (FULL NAME – DON’T WORRY, NO ONE WILL KNOW)

Then: Dana Adele Di Grazio

Now: Dana Adele Di Grazio Fontenot–God I love writing that :o) My new married name!

2. GRADE/TEACHER

Then: Fourth grade/Ms. Evelyn “The Douche Towel” Davis

Oh my God, I can’t believe I actually wrote “douche towel” at nine years old. I was such a little shit. Still am. Ms. Davis was a douche towel though, but how did I even know what that was back then? Oh yeah, the garage at my dad’s car dealership, where my own potty mouth was born and bred.

Now:  N/A

3. BEST FRIEND

Then: Hindley Hagen

Now:  Same. Oh wait, Hindley Hagen GREGOR  :o) Love writing her new name too.

3. WORST ENEMY

Then: Nathan Owens

Now: Any shit bag who fucks with my friends or family. Seriously, I mean that. I will fuck over ANYONE who screws with one of my babies, my brother, my husband, my friends or anyone else I love for that matter.

4. FAVORITE SUBJECT

Then: Math

Now:  Sex (ha ha)! I should say it’s my BEST subject, too, at least according to my husband. Okay, I’m sorry, I know it’s annoying, but I just LOVE writing “my husband.” My husband, my husband, my husband…suck it!

5. FAVORITE ACTOR (ONLY PICK ONE)

Then:  Johnny Depp/Leonardo DiCaprio (What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?)

Yes, I was a rebel. Even at the tender age of nine, I picked two actors. Fuck Becky Becker. Hell, everyone else did in high school. Bah ha ha!

Now: I think twenty years later my picks are still the same. In a word, for both boys…Yum!

6. FAVORITE SINGER/GROUP

Then: Boys II Men

Oh my God, Boys II Men! I’d totally forgotten all about them. AHHH-maz-ing group. Okay, I seriously love, love, LOVE their music and I wish like hell they were still recording. I mean, “I’ll Make Love to You” was the best make-out song EVER! Hindley and I went to their concert in sixth grade and I think I had my first orgasm right there in front of God and all of those fans. Freakin’ awesome! We were mad-crushing over those dudes back in the 90’s. Truth be told, I still get horny every time I hear “I’ll Make Love to You.”

Now: I’d still say B2M, if they were together. Instead, I’ll say Lady Gaga. Bitch is off-the-chain crazy and doesn’t give a SHIT about what people think about her–just like me! Although, I’d never wear a meat dress. That’s just gross.

7. GUY YOU WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH (HAS TO BE A BOY THAT GOES TO THIS SCHOOL)

Then: Marcus Tiberholt (please don’t tell him)

First of all, yes, you guessed it. That bitch, Becky Becker Suck My Pecker (I made it her official title in the fifth grade and spray painted it in the boys’ bathroom on the last day of school), told Marcus Tiberholt I was totally in love with him and wanted to suck his face raw, which technically was the truth. I felt bad for Marcus though because once everyone found out I wanted to make out with him, they called him Marcus Tits-You-Hold, and then they’d point to my chest. Kids are such fuckers! But Marcus was such a gentleman, even at age nine, he never once said a word about it to me, and he never looked at my boobs, at least not while I was watching him. And trust me, he was so cute, I watched him, a lot.

Marcus just kept getting hotter and hotter looking over the years, I swear. I prayed to be in his class just so I could stare at him all freaking day. Hindley and I would try to prank call his house, but they’d just come out with the caller ID thing, which made it nearly impossible. 

Marcus had sandy blond hair that was always tussled in a Hollywood McDreamy kind of style. And his emerald green eyes and lopsided smile made you want to suck his face for hours. He moved away our freshman year of high school though, and I think I cried for a week. Seriously.

I would like to think that Marcus is fat and bald now, but someone told me at our twenty year reunion he was a gynecologist in upstate New York with a full head of hair, a rocking hard body and those same emerald green eyes. Boy, I would die if he was buried between my legs now (in a purely medical sense, of course). Okay, enough about Marcus, I’m a married woman now. Ooooo. Married! :o)

Back to the answer to question number 

7. GUY YOU WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH (HAS TO BE A BOY THAT GOES TO THIS SCHOOL)

Now:  Although not TECHNICALLY at Fulmore Elementary School, I have to say, Mr. Hotty McHotty himself, Peter Joseph Fontenot. (I tried to call him PJ once. ONCE! Never did it again.) Making out with Peter is like finding paradise. When I’m wrapped in his arms, his mouth on mine, it’s like I’ve found myself, my true self, and I never want our kiss to end. Swoon!

8. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE MEAL

Then:  Macaroni and cheese with weenies

Now:  Same 

Fuck you, Becky Becker and Nate Owens. Now, I DO suck someone’s Oscar Meyer meat whistle you fuckwads, my husband’s. And guess what? I’m SUPER awesome at it, just ask him. Husband! Husband! Husband!!! :o)

Oh, and guess what Nate, you prick-licking fucker. My husband’s dick is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, unlike your mangled penis that looks like it got run through a fucking meat grinder. Asswipe! Okay, I’m better now. On with the survey.

9. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP

Then: I don’t know. I know what I DON’T want to be…A doctor who has to look at Nate Owens’ dick!

Shit, I can’t believe I actually wrote that when I was only nine! Okay, yes I can. Garage at my dad’s car dealership. Nuff said.

Now: A mom. Which I am. :o)

10. GUY YOU WANT TO LOSE YOUR VIRGINITY TO (THAT DOESN’T GO TO THIS SCHOOL)

Then: If his dick looks like Nate Owens…no one. But if it looks like my brother’s, then definitely Johnny Depp!

Okay, first, that was the SICKEST answer, comparing my sex partner’s dick to my brother’s. Even admitting that I knew what my brother’s dick looked like was off-the-charts perverted. Why didn’t anyone catch on to that back then? Thank God, they didn’t!

Now:  If I was still a virgin (ha ha, stop laughing), and I didn’t know Peter, I would probably say Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio or any of the singers from Boys II Men (as long as they sang to me). But seeing as I’m an old married woman now and lost my V-card like a zillion years ago to an asshole in tenth grade…I’ll say my husband, Peter Fontenot. Husband! Husband! Husband! God, I’m even getting sick of myself now.

11. BEST MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE (SO FAR)

Then:  Meeting my best friend, Hindley Hagen in Ms. Alferia’s P.E. class two years ago.

Now:  This is so unfair. I have three (plus one for the future). 1. Meeting Hindley Hagen in Ms. Alferia’s P.E. class. 2. Marrying my husband. 3. Meeting my children. 4. Adopting my children (in the not-so-distant future, I hope).

12. WORST MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE (SO FAR)

Then:  Seeing Nate Owens’ dick! Seriously, I thought I was going to die!

Now:  Losing my parents

13. THING YOU WANT TO BE KNOWN FOR

Then: Being a good friend to good friends. Being the biggest bitch to anyone who screws with me or my good friends.

Now: Same! Just add mom and wife now.

14. WHERE WILL YOU BE IN TWENTY YEARS

Then:  Working for a fashion magazine in Paris

I have no idea where the fuck that answer came from. I don’t even like Paris, and I hate fashion, although I do know style. I think I was probably fried by this point in the survey and was just answering the way I thought Hindley would.

Now:  I don’t think about twenty years from now. I live in the moment, thanks to my parents’ death and my cancer. And right now, my moment is pretty fan-fucking-tastic!

Holy shit! It’s almost a quarter until one a.m. and I have to be up in, oh fuck—like an hour! It will take me at least an hour to get Sam and Lucas up. Those two knuckle heads are the WORST about waking up. Then there’s Levi, who would forget his ass if it wasn’t attached. It will take him an hour just to get all his shit together. He’s just like me, God love him, because you know I do. And baby Lilly, well, she’ll probably be the easiest of all four of them to get ready.

Tomorrow we leave for Hawaii, the island of Kauai to be exact. It’s one of the smaller islands and I chose it for its secluded location. My parents always dreamed of going to Hawaii to renew their wedding vows, but unfortunately they never made it. I’d like to think that they’re going with me tomorrow, in spirit, and will renew their own vows right alongside Peter and me. 

I’m so happy the kids are coming and will be able to see this ceremony. They’ll be able to hear for themselves that Peter and I are committed, not only to one another, but to them as well. They all need to see that Peter and I are the real deal, their forever family.

Oh my God! The kids! I forgot to tell you about my kids. Lucas, who is the smartest person on the PLANET—seriously, is ten. Levi, who is funny as shit, funnier than me, is six. And sweet little Lillian, an angel dropped from Heaven, delivered straight to me from my mom, no doubt, is almost three. 

Peter and I are still fostering them. They’ve been with us for almost a month and have been through some serious shit in their short lives. I’m still trying to break through their protective walls. We hope if things go well with the adoption agency, and if the kids agree, we’ll be able to fully adopt them and move into our new home by Christmas. My stomach still twists in knots thinking of us not being able to be their forever parents, but Peter says I can’t go there, and I can’t. So, I won’t. They’ve been mine from the moment I first laid eyes on them, and that’s all I can say.

People talk about those “Ah-Hah! Moments” in their lives and I used to laugh because I’d never had one before and thought they were stupid as shit. But within the last three months, I’ve had several “Ah-Hah! Moments.” 

The first came when Peter crashed his bike. I know that sounds horrible, and it was, but at that moment, I knew I had to take care of him. I didn’t tell him that of course because I thought he was a total DICK, but it was like my life had a purpose again, I had a reason to exist, even if I didn’t like him at the time.

The second “Ah-Hah! Moment,” you can guess, came the minute my eyes connected with the photograph of my three kids. I call them MY kids already because I truly believe in the power of positive thinking. Just like with Peter, I KNEW at that moment, I was born to take care of them. Turns out, the thing I’m best at is taking care of other people, even though I thought I was a selfish shit all these years. What I didn’t realize until I met Peter is that I never let anyone take care of ME. Let me tell you, allowing Peter Fontenot to take care of me (wink, wink) has been amaze-balls!

Losing my parents and being diagnosed with cancer at 19 (oh yeah, forgot to mention that by the way), was the worst thing to ever happen to me. I was forced to take on responsibilities that I didn’t want, and as a result I just stopped caring completely—about me, about my life, about anything. The less I cared about myself, the less I thought others cared about me. So, I continued to build up the facade that I didn’t give a shit. The only people who saw through my walls were Sam, Hindley and Leif. To them, I was as transparent as Saran Wrap. I could never hide my true feelings from any of them. But thankfully, they kept my secret and gave me the space and the time I needed to find my own way back home.

I’m crass and crazy and it’s true, I don’t give a flying fuck what people think of me most of the time. My motto has always been, “If you don’t like what you see, then get the fuck out of my line of sight!” I inherited that motto from my Italian father by the way. Underneath all that tough exterior though lived a different person, a little girl most people rarely saw, a person who really did care, someone who really did need to be cared for. Hindley’s been doing that for me my whole life, kicking my ass when I need it and holding my hand when the world thought I was tough as nails. And Leif’s been my supporter as Hindley moved on with her own life, forcing me to get up, get out and get on with things, but cradling me when my world fell apart.

Then I met Peter Fontenot and something inside me clicked. It took me a while to show him, but in the end I really didn’t have a choice. I needed him. And best of all, he needed me, which made my life complete. Then came the kids and WHOAH! How my life has expanded with more love than I ever dreamed possible. I just THOUGHT I was complete until they came into my life. 

A year ago, I was alone and trying to figure out what the fuck I wanted from life, all the while putting up a wall that told people I didn’t really give a shit. Now, I know what I want. I want Peter. I want Sam. I want these kids. And you know what? They want me too, which is the biggest surprise of all.

Most of my adult life I would wake up and think, “Why the fuck am I even here?” Maybe I should have died with my parents or been taken by the cancer. Then one morning not so long ago, Levi came into our bedroom while I was still asleep and pulled my hair back from my face, whispering in my ear that his jeans were still in the dryer. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal for him - he could get them out of the dryer himself. 

No, I am NOT Ms. Suzy Homemaker and my husband and kids know that. Rarely, do I clear out the dryer when it’s done or unload the dishwasher when it’s finished. Fuck it! The shit usually sits in there until someone needs some socks, a pair of underwear, or in Levi’s situation that morning, some jeans. Typically, the boys will pull out what they need and plop down the rest at my feet to fold. 

Anyway, back to Levi. 

We’d just gotten a new washer and dryer and the poor little guy couldn’t pull the door open. As I stretched in my huge bed, rolling over to see his baby face that was growing more mature before my very eyes, I got it. Another “Ah-Hah! Moment.” I realized, THAT’S why I’m here, that’s my purpose in life. To get Levi’s pants out of the dryer. How lame is that? Sounds stupid right? But it wasn’t, it was surreal.

 Or another time, when Lucas pushed on my hip while I was in the kitchen making, you guessed it, macaroni and cheese with weenies. He held out an empty tube of toothpaste to me and I actually said, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” His eyes grew as big as saucers and I about shit my pants when I realized what I’d said. Thankfully, the kids understood I was trying to tame my potty mouth. It was another “Ah-Hah! Moment.” I was put here on this earth to make sure Lucas always has toothpaste. 

I know it sounds totally strange, but that’s what I felt in my heart and it gave me peace, a peace I hadn’t known since before my parents died. A sense of calm I hadn’t experienced since before I’d been diagnosed with cancer and the doctors removed every piece of internal female anatomy I had. Something about losing all your reproductive organs makes you feel like less of a woman. But in that moment, holding an empty tube of fucking toothpaste of all things, I’d never felt more like a woman in all my life. 

I’m sure those two examples don’t really seem like much of a reason to exist to most people, but for me, they’re monumental. I realized in those “Ah-Hah! Moments” that the people I love need me in some way, and I need them, something I’d never fully let myself believe before. When you drop your walls and become vulnerable, you find there’s really no greater feeling than to love and be loved in return. 

Although, I have to say, with Peter Fontenot next to me, I don’t feel so vulnerable now. He’s truly the love of my life and every barrier I ever had came crashing down when he walked into my life and doused me with beer (that’s a whole other story). It just took me a little while to figure that out. I’d truly walk through fire for him and I know he would do the same for me. Maybe we should try that in Hawaii…NOT!

In a few days, I will stand in front of Peter and restate the vows we already took two months ago in the judge’s chambers at the courthouse. In all this time since my parents’ death, I’ve existed in a protective bubble. But Peter Fontenot came along and burst that bubble. At first, I was so pissed at him for fracturing my walls. But what I failed to realize back then was that Peter wasn’t trying to hurt me, he just wanted to show me that it was okay for someone to take care of ME. It was okay to NEED someone. And it was all right for someone to love me for more than just one night. It’s for those reasons, and a ton of others, that I will always be grateful to him. 

I know it sounds sadistic, but I thank God that Peter fell that day in the arena. I thank God that I had to care for him, because it was in caring for Peter Fontenot that I found myself.

Yes, I’m still that crazy, fucked up girl from fourth grade who NEVER wants to see a dick like Nate Owens’, and who thinks being serenaded by ANY member of Boys II Men would be a dream come true. But I’m also the girl who came out of her shell, a shell she built once her parents died and the test results said she had cancer, removing what she thought would be the only chance she’d ever have to create a new family.

I still have that “Fuck the World” attitude, and I really couldn’t give two shits about what others think of me. I’ll fight the rest of my life to tame my potty mouth, even though I know in the end I will lose because that’s just who I am. And part of me will always fear the chance of my cancer returning. But the funny thing is, I’m perfectly all right with all of that, and so is my family. My family. That sounds so weird to say. And yet so right.

Okay, Diary, I’m signing off, for now. I’ve got to be up in like, oh shit! Forty-five minutes! Thank God, it’s an eight hour flight. Although, I doubt with three kids, Sam, and the rest of our parcel of friends and family in tow, that I’ll get one ounce of sleep on board the plane. That’s all right, though, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I might as well not even try to go to sleep now. Instead, I think I’ll go fuck my husband twenty ways to Sunday and start this honeymoon early. God, I love Peter, and these kids, and Sam. I love all the friends in my life who’ve always been family to me, and I’ll fight to the death for any of them. My life has been and always will be fan-fucking-tastic!

I promise not to wait twenty more years to write. Maybe by then I’ll be a grandma. Holy fuck, that’s insane!

Love ya Diary,

D