Monday, November 28, 2011


Once we learned cursive in the third grade I had met my match. As the rest of the class struggled and complained about how awful they thought it was I sat in the back with a large grin on my face. I loved it and I still love. My handwriting is a big swirly mess. In high school before we were required to type every damn thing, I swore that I got good grades just because the teachers could not read my handwriting. But the word got out that I had this crazy cursivenes that was unreadable which translated (not literally) into mature handwriting. (This is the part of the movie where a forgetful high schooler has a permission slip that they have just found in the back of their trapper keeper and it needs to be signed in the next eight minutes or they don't get to go the cool museum!). So as you can probably guess the movie progresses into me signing people's permission slips all the damn time, including one of my bestest. And I would like to pride myself on how convincing her mother's signature became.

These were my secrets. First you need the name of the parent, then you make the first letter huge and curly then you do a few little humps and bumps. Rinse and repeat for the last name BUT you must do big curl at the end. If there was a y, j, or g over exaggerate. Presto!


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