i grew up watching every ernest goes to fill-in-the-blank-with-something-zany flick that found its way to the VHS racks, which probably accounts for my penchant for inexplicably slipping into a variety of half-irritating/half-endearing characters and the way I keep dressing up like an old woman. me and ernest, we’ve been through some crazy times.

this one time, ernest went to camp and the world took an enormous dump on him, and he cried. i cried too. why’s life gotta be so hard at camp?! at the camp i went to, there were a lot of spiders and slightly erotic homosexual encounters, but none of those mean and nasty shenanigans that ernest went through.

then there was the time ernest got scared stupid in ernest scared stupid, where this nasty, mucus-covered troll turned children into little pieces of wood. that was pretty fucked up. i didn’t sleep for about a year after that. but ernest also saved christmas, so that’s cool, although really he just kinda bumbled around a lot until some actor decided to be the new santa claus… the title’s a little misleading. and most importantly, ernest went to jail, for possession of a columbian shipment of ten pounds of fresh antics, and then he got to shoot lightning out of his fingertips, ’cause he’s a god like that.

he’s done a lot; of that, there’s no doubt. but what he’s done most often is tug awkwardly on my heartstrings, which i guess are probably arteries so he should stop doing that. i could die. anyway, i appreciate the times we’ve had, ernest p. worrell, and one thing’s for sure:

i will never hate on you, ernest! even though i might be the only one in the world.

oh, and a p.s. to that fat guy and the really old, skinny guy that’re always in the movies — you guys are cool, ’cause one of you is fat and the other is thin. that combo always gets the laughs going. really, i mean, fat guys never hang out with skinny guys in real life. hilarious.