The curse…

Remember in elementary school when you use to have to line up for everything? And orders were always predetermined?

It was almost always determined by last name. “Hey guys! Bobby brought treats for his birthday! Line up by last name and we’ll hand them all out… uhoh there’s only 24 cupcakes and there’s 28 of you! Oh well the kids at the end can have celebratory apples!” (dramatization but pretty close to reality)

For some reason we were never allowed to creatively decide our own order. Loudest belch? Smelliest foot? Fastest recitation of Jabberwocky?! Never. Always last name.

Thus, having been cursed with a last name beginning with “W” I was usually at the back of the pack. Except for that AMAZING day when we would go last names first.

It was one particular day when I was at the end of the recess line waiting for my first grade teacher to hand out our apple juice boxes that I promised myself- I would never marry anyone whose last named came after the letter “M”. I would never saddle my poor children with such a dreadful burden.

And today, as I wait for my Pretrial Advocacy professor to listen to my short argument in support of my motion for summary judgment, knowing that I will be the second to last person (HAHA SUCKS TO BE YOU ZUCCOLOTTO) and hanging out here with a grumbling tummy that I REAFFIRM that promise to myself.

Sign my petition HERE to stop oppression of people whose last names come at the end of the alphabet!

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