Swans Crossing Is the Best Show Ever

I was at my parents' house on Sunday when I found myself in the attic, looking for a recycled gift bag in which to nestle the wrench I bought as a Father's Day present for my dad. I could've taken care of that at my own home with my own stash of gift bags, but that would've required forethought. So there I was, at 5 p.m. on the evening of the holiday, pawing through 20 years of used wrapping paper and gift bags my mother had saved, when I stumbled across a box labeled "Junior High School Memorabilia." My junior high school memorabilia. I grabbed the box, threw a bag and some tissue paper on top of it, and carried my loot down the narrow steps.

Knowing exactly what kind of hilarity was contained in that tattered box, I brought it into the living room to regale The Partner, my father, my sister and my brother with tales of my pre- and early-teen inanity. After reading excerpts from a few English papers, a journal I kept for history class, and a story that won first place in the town-wide fine arts contest, I came upon the piece de resistance. It was a letter I wrote to the executives in charge of the teen soap opera with which I was obsessed--SWANS CROSSING.

Can I get a woot woot?

To know those interweavings of rich pubescent angst is to love them. I honestly believe that, for a time, my best friend and I were two of the biggest fans out there. We spent what probably added up to hundreds of dollars in quarters at pay phones calling different members of the show (who were not yet popular enough to have unlisted numbers but who, when were done with them, most certainly rectified that oversight); we had sleepovers where we did little else than lay around, taking turns articulating elaborate SC fantasies for the other's amusement (though sometimes we got up to do the coreographed dance and the signature "SC" hand gesture that began each show); and, as you will soon find out, woke up at 6 a.m. each weekday morning to watch the episodes when the show was given the after-school boot.

This is the letter I pulled out of the box that chronicles the latter example of my age fourteen fanaticism. It was addressed to the studio where Swans Crossing was filmed.

"To whom it may concern,

Words cannot express my anger and dismay. I am livid. I am disgusted. I am positively overwhelmed with fury. I am ready to hurl (which, in case you don't know, is slang for VOMIT!!). I am your basically average 14 year old who is astounded by the stupidity of you middle-aged executives.

The issue I am writing about is the pinheaded decision to move Swans Crossing from 5:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. just to make room for episodes of Saved By the Bell which I've already seen 80 million times. Do you realize how hard it is going to be to get up at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM? I am probably the only girl who will even bother to make the effort. Whereas at 5:00 p.m., almost all my friends have watched Swans Crossing.

I am begging you, pleading with you, to change it back to 5:00 p.m. You can go stick SBTB in the 6:00 a.m. time slot where it belongs! I hope I have made my point abundantly clear.

Yours in disgust,

Binky"

There is nothing more for me to say. But, you--feel free to chime in.