A Year With the BSC is an informal series wherein I explore the 1990’s CD-ROM video game The Baby-sitters Club Friendship Kit. The game is more of a personal organizer; it features with a calendar, an address book, a stationary kit, a flyer maker, and a personality profile. I’m focusing on the more interesting aspect of the game: the personalized letters and the journal entries. The full list of entries can be found at rereadingmychildhood.com.
So the BSC was awfully chatty this week, so let’s get to it. First of all, Dawn sent me a letter.
Fun fact: Stacey has not sent me one letter. She must think I’m too snarky. And speaking of snark…
Mal, buddy, boobalah, don’t say, “a swinging time was had by all!” Not when talking about kids.
What? After five home runs, they still didn’t win? Who were they playing against? The Monstars from Space Jam?
Cool, Mary Anne, but they still lost and bravery has nothing to do with winning, which is what we care about as Capitalist Americans.
What 11-year-old doesn’t love O Henry! Yeah, fuck Frozen, I want stories about old-timey couples in abject poverty selling their prized possessions or body parts so they can buy a gift.
Gawd, Claudia, you can’t even spell your beloved dead grandmother’s name? It’s “Mimi.” That’s it. You only have to remember two letters and then double it! Now I think she’s just fucking with us. She wants to lower expectations so she doesn’t have to try. That’s the only explanation. This is all a giant ruse. It has to be.
Oh good, those coupons that kids never fulfill.
Just stacks and stacks of useless paper. Geez, kids, just clean your stupid room without your parents asking one time and you’ll be set for the fucking year. Pro-tip from a previous child.