someone should make a movie about my life

I’m a parent.

Yeah, I didn’t know either. But my email doesn’t lie:

Dear Parent,

Club Penguin is a snow-covered, virtual world for kids full of great games, amazing adventures and playful penguins. Our goal is to provide a safe online experience for kids by employing sophisticated filtering technology and a team of highly trained moderators.

I really wish I would stop having kids I don’t know anything about. Unless… maybe my dog has figured out how to use a computer? I wouldn’t put it past her. She is very smart. She also likes snow a lot and I bet she would enjoy herding penguins. And it’s certainly more plausible than me having gestated and subsequently given birth to a child who is now old enough to want to play games on the internet, a child I have forgotten about, no less. Actually, at last count, I am up to more than 10 such mystery children who have signed up on various websites that require parental permission to participate. And I can understand having one kid and forgetting all about it, I mean, you know, things happen, but more than ten times? I’m not old enough to have that many kids, unless I started really early, or I had septuplets and then triplets and then another baby or two or something. And if I did have septuplets and then triplets and then another baby or two (and don’t remember any of it) where the hell is my reality show? Huh? That would be some seriously compelling television. Because that means I have amnesia and I’m living a double life and my kids are trying to reach out to me via the internet and I’m all “What the hell, I don’t have any kids, I bet my dog is using my computer because that’s totally believable,” and then at night they cry and ask their father, “Daddy, why doesn’t Mommy love us?” and he sighs, knowing that they’re too young still to understand about the accident and the promise he made to that doctor who would help me live again as long as he (he being my babydaddy) swore never to contact me again, because of course part of the deal was that I would become a spy for a secret, powerful organization, and maybe I am a spy and maybe I’m not, but either way it’s not like I can write about it on my blog, you understand. Yet as the years have gone on, he (he being my babydaddy) has tried to send me coded messages through our children and if only I didn’t have amnesia, I would understand what they meant, but I do have amnesia, so I’m just confused about why I’m getting emails about my children signing up for websites. But maybe one day I will finally remember and the memories will play in my brain like a montage (with an accompanying soundtrack) and I will realize who I truly am, and of course being maybe or maybe not a spy with access to all kinds of neato spy gadgets and whatnot, I will find my family and we will be reunited and then I would have to kill some bad guys in order to live in peace, which I would totally do, because there’s no sacrifice too great for my family and all, and then I will settle down into a domestic life and my grandma will finally stop nagging me.

Screw reality television! That should be a summer blockbuster! Someone call Hollywood right now!

And then for the sequel, I will have a Michael Corleone-style moment, you know, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in” and there will be all kinds of excitement and hijinks and probably some really sweet explosions. Totally.

Or, you know, maybe the email was just a mistake.