COAIB Part VI!

FWOOM! Girly Boy throws a blanket over Jonesy, blushing. "Cover yourself up, damnit!"

I wrap my arms around his two legs and threw him down on the floor and made a move to get my converse. "You little transexual freak!"

Girly Boy screamed (in what seemed like a very disturbing sexual manner, I daresay) and turned his (or ehr, depending on how you look at it) head away and started slapping me frantically with his petite hands and started kicking the floor.

"MERCY! I said MERCY! STOP!" He screamed.

"This isn't a hand game, you-" I began, as he rolled over and straddled me and started smacking me with my shoe.

I tried blocking my face with my hands, but this fruit of a guy just didn't give up. I made a move to grab my shoe quickly and sat up, making Girly Boy fall on his rear.

We both quickly stood up and he tackled me, and I felt my head go "SQUEAK" and bump against something hard, and then my head fly back down onto what felt like brick.

We both opened our closed eyes. (You know, just in case he smacked me in the eye with my shoe and I became horribly blind) My head was hanging out of the large two story window, and Girly Boy was leaning on me, his hands gripping my shoulders like I was some sort of sled.

We both tensed. Girly Boy looked behind me and down to the ground.

We weren't that high up. The hotel was small, a fall wouldn't kill us, even if we fell head first. I actually don't know, but that's what it feels like.

Suddenly, Girly Boy lets go of my shoulders and pushed the windowsill up higher, and he ducks down, but still manages to fall on his rear to the dirty maroon carpet.

I slipped myself back and rested my head far, far away from the window. Seriously. That was EPIC.

We both look up to see Jonesy, half clothed, sitting sprawled on the cal. king mattress. Wearing a green tee shirt that said, "Save the trees! That way my nuts can still grow" and his pants half on, he looked almost normal. His boxers, though, were pushed down, and he was clutching an ice pack to his...umm...meat stick.

He groaned before managing to murmur out, "What the flipping taco?" He glared at both of us from the mattress, and clutched his ice pack harder.

Girly Boy's response, though, was to throw my shoe at my face. It slips down to my lap, but I don't notice, because I'm still frowning at Jonesy.

"That freak...umm...stole my shoe." I lamely muttered, snarling at Girly Boy from afar.

Jonesy pursed his lips and looked at Girly Boy. "And you?"

"Um...she...he...drag queen! I mean, um, I'm not one to talk but..." Girly Boy mumbled. He pointed at me. "That's...a guy. From the Angry Girl Band concert. The one you...tackled. And, umm..."

He gestured toward me again. "He's dressing up as a girl. For no reason. I SAW him talk to Carrie's mom. Trying to be nice and close to her, and all. He's taking advantage of K...Katherine! I saw! I totally saw!"

Jonesy raised his eyebrows. "Sometimes I really don't know whether you just wanna cause trouble or if you're really this stupid, Logan."

Logan. This fruit's name is LOGAN. Hrrrrrrgrah!

"This," Jonesy nodded at me, seeing as his hands were busy at the moment, "is one of Carrie's many friends. Popo, I think."

"No." I said loudly, from the corner, my head down, my face deadly serious. "My name isn't POPO."

"Oh. Whatever. What is it, then?" Jonesy boredly inquired.

"Uhhh...uhhh..." I fidgeted.

"What, you don't eve know your name, Po?" Jonesy pushed. "Perv! Perv! Perv!" Logan chants from the sidelines.

"My...my name...is..."

"MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND!"

I throw my shoe at him, missing profoundly. It hits Logan instead, and he throws back to me, just as profoundly, hitting Jonesy straight in the jaw.

Jonesy slams my shoe on the mattress in indignation and threw it at me, landing in my lap. (profoundly) "Stop conspiring against me and answer my damn question!"

"It's Allison-Eclair Ma-Desine D'Aubigne!" I exclaim.

Siilence. Complete and utter silence. Both of them seem to be staring at me. I stare at them back.

Neither are moving. Or talking. I slowly stand up, and slowly, ever so slowly, I walk out the room, the door closing in an epic, "KTACH".

____________________________________________________________________

"Oh, Poppy, listen. The dermatologist and the person who can change your name are either sick, out of business, or on vacation. This is bad times, you know. Think economy." Katie says, from the front seat of her lamborghini.

Carrie snickers. "I knew you'd get lost. We waited a whole hour before calling Faery to see if you came back alright." Faery is my mom. Seriously. No joke.

"Imagine our surprise to find you talking peacefully with old man Connor!" Connor is the hobo that once chased me down the street for my donut. We mended ways and are now friends. Three new friends in this adventure of stupidity we know so much as Popina's Life.

"Hrmph." I cross my arms and look out the window, indifferently.

"Oh, cool!" Carrie pinches my seat from my left. I turn to her, my face bewildered.

Carrie pats/lightly slaps my cheek. "That's one cool mark there! I still don't wanna know how that got there, but..."

I touch my cheek lightly and look at the rearview mirror. Logan's shoe mark was still planted perfectly on my left cheek.

"Oh. Um. It's nothing."

Confessions of an Innocent Bystander Part V

I stare in shock.

And stare.

Because, well, SHE was there.

Well, actually...HE.

That cross-dressing boy. Well, I don't really have a right at calling him the 'cross-dressing boy', since, you know, I cross-dressed, too.

He wasn't wearing that pretty blonde wig. Good, too. I can't handle it when a guy looks prettier than me.

That sounds kinda wrong.

He seemed to recognize me, too. He was all like, "YOU!" and then started to reach into his pocket for a Band-Aid. I can't blame him, because after Jonesy had tackled me I had sort of scabbed my knee and he had handed one to me.

Well, not actually 'handed'. Because when he was unstuffing his bra he sort of threw it at me.

That's actually a pretty good idea. To stuff your bra with Band-aids, I mean. Not the dress-up-as-the-opposite-sex thing.

It's beneficent. To stuff your bras with band-aids. I should do that.

"No! No Band-Aids!" I scream. He stops.

Gosh, he is so short. I swear, he looks barely 5'3. Or maybe that's just me being tall.

Oh graham crackers, he looks scared. His eyes are all wide and he looks so frail...

And that's when it happened. He ran away.

The girly boy had just RAN AWAY in FEAR of ME.

So there I was, staring dumb-founded, at the girly boy that was running around, his arms flailing, looking as if he was a headless chicken.

Then he tripped. I walk over to him and hold out a hand for him to hang onto.

He looks up at me in fear.

"You perverted MONSTER! I spit at your girly shoes!" He practically coughs out a wad of gum on my shoe. "Oh snap, my gum..." He mumbles. He picks himself up and glares at me.

And there I was, standing, the words 'perverted monster' stuck in my mind.

ME?? A PERVERTED MONSTER??

I scuff my shoes, trying to scrape the gum off.

"How DARE you call me a perverted monster, you GIRLY BOY!" Then Girly Boy's face seems to understand. "OHHHHHH." He says.

"YEEEEEEES." I say, offended.

"I know...!" He exclaims, and then goes all up in my face, poking my flat chest hard with his beautifully filed fingers.

"You're a DRAG QUEEN, aren't you?! You are!"

It was then that I finally understood.

Girly Boy thought I was...A BOY. A DRAG QUEEN.

"NO!" I exclaim. "I am a GIRL!"

"LIES!" Then suddenly, Girly Boy grabs my foot, making me trip.

And then runs off with my shoe.

"JERK!" I scream, before sprinting off after him. I actually had to take off my other shoe, since Katie had just lecture me about good posture and how uneven ground is bad for it.

I spot Girly Boy run into the hotel. I hesitate, before following him, running pass the front desk and up the elevator.

Too late. Girly Boy closes the elevator before I even have a chance to step inside. I sob a moment of distress before running up the stairs.

Lucky for me, it was only two stories. I made it even before Girly Boy.

"You!" I scream, as he spots me and turns around, running off. He opens a door to a room, stepping inside.

I run inside with me, quicker this time than with the elevator. "You little jerkwad!" I scream.

Someone's using the shower. I don't bother who it was. Girly Boy backs up into the bathroom door, bubbling. "Monster! You pervy crossdresser! MONSTER!"

I practically run to him, howling, and...

It all happened in a span of ten seconds. I jumped towards him, my arms stretched out, ready to tackle. He ran out of the way, just in time.

The bathroom door slams open, revealing Jonesy, of all people, in a towel, drenched in water. I slam into the wall, my flailing arms grabbing his towel for support, ripping it off, my head slamming into...my head slamming into...

My head slamming into...into his thing. The thing in between his legs. He kneels over in pain, clutching his crotch, as I practically hyperventilate on the floor.

OMG. My MOUTH just touched a guy's THING. (Well technically, it was my whole face) How am I able to live with myself?!?! And my best friend's BOYFRIEND, or all people!

So there I was, practically having a seizure on the ground, Jonesy, CRYING, next to me, NAKED, and the idiotic Girly Boy, staring in shock, his arms still gripping my converse.

(A/N: So how was it, guys? xD)

Confessions of an Innocent Bystander Part IV

Well, it wasn't what I expected. I expected some sort of spa or some pink place with bubbly baths covered with beautiful naked women in it.

But instead, I'm in what looks like a really big basement. Well, not really. It just smells like a basement-mothballs, dusty, but nod bad-smelling or anything. The floor was gray with some stains and scratched on it, like how my basement looks like. It was also cluttered with stuff. The only difference was that it wasn't useless junk you only use in like, ten years from now. I've passed by this place before, but I thought it was a terrorist haven, or something.

"This," Katie says with a breath of pride, her hands out stretched, "Is my studio!"

I sniff. I'm really impressed. "I thought your mom owned a spa." I whispered to Carrie.

"She DOES." She whispered back. "But in her studio, it's FREE."

"Oh. Ok." I say a little louder than I should have. Katie turned, having walked over to these khaki colored blinds. She pinched my arm, HARD, and dragged me to what looked like a shower.

"STRIP."

"WHAT?" I almost screech.

"I'm going to teach you how to take a bath."

'I know how to take a bath!" I whine, close to tears. I mean, being taught how to take a bath in front of your best friend and her mom is so uncool. Even those people that don't care what's cool or not has to agree on THAT.

"By the looks of your hair, and your hamster odor, you definitely do not! Now strip." Katie says with a hint of annoyance.

Hamster odor. I smell like a hamster?? I brought a strand of hair to my face and took a whiff. I drew back, tearful. I DO smell like a hamster!!!

"Just strip." Carrie says boredly, while flipping through Seventeen behind me. "Stop being such a baby."

"Carrie." Katie barks, glaring at her. "Out."

Carrie, at least, had some sympathy. She stood up, magazine in hand, waved goodbye with a slight smile, and left.

Katie sighed, my face as red as a tomato. "Just take your clothes off behind the curtain." I swiftly went behind the curtains, and proceeded to remove my clothing. I slung my shirt and pants over the curtains, which Katie took and lied somewhere near her.

"Now, open the shower. Turn the COLD knob halfway, and turn the HOT knob quarterway."

I obeyed her command, bending down to turn the faucets. Soon, the shower sprayed out a cool fountain. I stood there, getting soaked, expecting her next command.

"Hot water makes you lose your hair. Also, a long shower is bad, too. this bath will only by 15 minutes." I nodded, even though my regular bath consisted of get wet, get out. (3 minutes)

Three minutes later, when my skin suddenly got used to the coldness, Katie ordered, "Now, close the faucet. Get the cream colored bottle to your left. It's shampoo. Put a dab of it on each finger."

It took my a while, since there were a bunch of cream colored bottles. Finally, I had the sense to loom at the bottle, until which I found SWEET CUCUMBER SHAMPOO FOR GREASY IRRITATING HAIR. I dabbed my fingers each with the chilly liquid, before setting it down.

"Okay." i replied.

"Now, I want you to comb you hair with your fingers. Remember to get the front and your bangs, everyone seems to forget that part."

I saved my thumbs for my bangs, since it was the greasiest. "Done." I announced proudly.

"Now, I want you to wash it off." I did what she told me to do, even though I was skeptic. She just told me to put it on, and now she was telling me to put it off?

Three minutes later I was sure all the shampoo was gone from my head, that, which I sniffed, didn't smell as much as hamster anymore.

"Now, to your right is another cream-colored bottle. It's a conditioner." I found it quickly, contrast to the shampoo, since I had actually read the bottles this time. "Do the same thing you did to the shampoo."

Once I had dabbed my fingers and combed through my hair, she told me to wash it off again. Three minutes had passed. I know, because there was a digital clock on the ceiling. It was covered by plexiglas, so you couldn't get it wet. Just thoguht like informing you how I knew how much time had passed.

Six minutes to go. "What's your favorite color, Poppy?" Katie asked me, sitting on what looked like a toilet.

"Forest green." I replied, leaning on the wet shower wall.

Katie stood up and rummaged through a cabinet, and soon her hand was hanging over the shower curtain, holding a forest green net sponge. I took it graciously.

"Wet the sponge. Then, I want you to put some cucumber body wash on it. It's on the right." I grabbed the body wash and squeezed the bottle.

I wasn't stupid, so Katie didn't think I was. She let me cover myself with the soap from the sponge, waiting patiently for three minutes. Without having to tell me, I washed it off.

Fifteen minutes had finally passed. Katie slung a bathrobe and a towel over the curtain. I wrapped the towel around my head neatly, feeling suddenly professional.

"See, that wasn't so hard, wasn't it?" Katie squealed, "I can smell you from five feet away!" Which, I hope, was a compliment.

"You're quite lucky, Popina. Your legs and arms are soft as a baby's bottom. No hair. No shave." Katie mused. She handed me a bottle of cucumber lotion. Already knowing what she was going to say, I started to lathered my body with the nice smelling cream.

"You know, Popina, I know that you're sensitive about your breast size. And I just wanted you to know, but massaging them makes them grow bigger." I nodded, although having no intention to massage my breasts in front of my best friend's mom.

It was then that I realized that it didn't matter anymore. I forgotten my fear of nudity, as I was already naked in front of her, lotioning my inner thighs.

"Also, Popina, you should wash your face every day. Also, I have a very special dermatologist at my spa who can make your pimples gone-and stay that way."

I love this woman.

Five minutes later, Katie tore the towel off my head. "I know it sounds silly, but we're going to cut it now. I know we should have cut your hair before your bath, but you seem dry now and the transition is going to work better. I nodded, not knowing how it was silly.

I sat down at one of the leather chairs, now facing a mirror. "Your hair dries fast." Katie commented. Already, my hair was as dry as it had been twenty minutes ago. However, it was better smelling.

"You have gorgeous cheekbones, Popina. Now that your hair is clean, you can see the good traits of it. See this?" Katie's finger traced a blond streak on my otherwise brown hair. "That's a natural highlight."

I always thought it was a smudge that made my hair look uneven, but Katie's words made me feel better about myself.

"We have to take advantage of your cheekbones and that highlight, Popina. Today, we're going to cut your hair, just like mine. We're going to give you thick, luscious bangs, and a bob cut."

I smiled brightly at her, noticing faintly that behind my big lips, I had nice, white teeth.

"You have small eyes. If we can arch them enough, you can actually look White-Asian. There's nothing a little eye liner can't do."

Katie pulled my hair up, and suddenly blind folded my eyes. "I want my patients surprised at the out come." The blindfold on my face reminded me of my unibrow. Would she help me with that, too?

I heard snips. I felt a strand of hair fall on my shoulder. I gulped. No one's perfect. Would Katie make my haircut look...fab?

"Done!" Katie exclaimed gleefully, whipping the blindfold off my face. I sat there in shock, gaping.

"See, I know about your unibrow. By highlighting the features in your hair, no one will notice."

I can't believe this. I actually look PRETTY. Not gorgeous, like Carrie, or cute, like Ava, but I am no longer a clone of a mutant being.

The next things were all a blur to me. I just couldn't staring at my FACE. I listened to Katie's lectures on how to make my eyes look more arched with the eyeliner, and I was attentive the whole time. My teachers must have been proud.

We went outside. Carrie was waiting, still reading Seventeen. She looked up, gawked at me, and squealed. "You look great!" Before throwing her arms around me and squeezing me tightly.

"Well, we're done for today." Katie said abrubtly, stepping inside her Lamborghini, along with Carrie. "Do you need a ride home?"

I shake my head no. "I've been to this place before." Well, once. And that was only because I was being chased by a hobo down the street for having a donut.

"Ok. Ciao. We'll try legally changing your name after I'm allowed to schedule you an appointment with my dermatologist." Katie yells from behind the car. At that, they drove off.

When they were out of sight, I glance at my reflection. In a way, I sort of looked like a younger, brunette version of Nicole Richie.

You know, minus the pimples, the less visible unibrow, and a lot of other things, but still.

After walking around for a few minutes I decided that I should try getting a new wardrobe along with my new look. Even though, you know, all I really did was get a haircut. But with my thick bangs, most of my pimples were less visible, and with with new shampoo and conditioner, it didn't look as greasy.

I walked myself to the nearest Target, coming out with a pair of skinny jeans, and a baby blue over-the-shoulder top. It was a start. The clothing I wore originally were in my Target bag. Then I waited patiently at the next bus stop.

It was there that I met a very familiar face.

(A/N: Ok, ok, reeeaaaaallllyy boring chapter. But I just wanted to finish this chapter up and get it over with. The next will be better, I promise! ;D)

Confessions of an Innocent Bystander Part 3

I have decided.

I know what I'm going to call myself. My new name, I mean.

It will be Allison-Eclair Ma-Desine D'Aubigne!

"...no. Just, no." Carrie says when I tell her. She's probably PMS-ing.

My makeover is scheduled in half an hour, and Carrie is trying to make me as ugly as ever. She says the more work you need, the more work they'll do to you. And for the same price!

So far, Carrie has rubbed a balloon across my head, to make it static-y. She also dumped a load of paint on my head. For coloring reasons. I want to turn blond.

I'm wearing a stained shirt with a duck on it. The shirt is way too small, and the pants are the opposite. We're doing this at her house. My mom doesn't like Carrie.

She suspects that I can never have a real straight friend and that Carrie is some lez along with me. She actually stays in my room when I have her around, which is creepy, having her stare at us like that without saying anything, sitting there...

"Care-Bear!" Carrie's uber-cool mom calls. "Time to go!"

She knocks and waits until Carrie says, "Come in!".

I wish she was my mom. Carrie's mom is named Katie, and she has short auburn hair that stops just below her chin. She's tall and is a bit of a supermodel. She has the perfect hour-glass figure and her skin is olive and smooth. She's so cool. She's wearing a purple cami and a leather khaki jacket. She has a matching pencil skirt and purple pumps.

Carrie stands up from her black and white and brown and rose-covered bed. Her hair is a darker shade of red, and her hair goes down to her shoulders and is long and thick and wavy. No freckles. She's the perfect height, and is a Katie mini-me. She's wearing a red tank and skinny jeans.

My mom is a vision of me thirty years from now. Long brown greasy hair, too skinny for her worth, over-sized feet, ears, and lips, and is almost as flat as me. She has two little bumps. She can't possibly be even an A Cup. She has a cat named Dog.

I look exactly the same but with glasses. I'm starting to love Carrie more and more. In the friendship sense, I mean. Not to disappoint my mom. I smile.

"Does your mother know you're going to legally change your name?" Katie ass with a concerned look as we walk into her bright red Lamborghini.

"Yeah..." I mumble, remembering the flashback.



"Hey mom. I'm going to change my name." I say, dropping my backpack into the floor.

"Into what, hon?"

"Allison-Eclair Ma-Desine D'aubigne!"

My mom collapses onto the floor, crying. Crying with laughter. She laughs so hard she doesn't hear me say, "...kay. Thanks." And walking away with the last blueberry muffin.



END FLASHBACK!

"Oh, good. And what are you going to call yourself?"

I fidget before answering proudly, "Allsion-Eclair Ma-Desine D'aubigne!"

I see the only flaw Katie has ever produced. She spits, trying to suppress her laughter. Her poodle, Baby, moans at the sight of me.

She regains her composture, coughing, saying, "Well, hon...that's kind of long..."

"Toooold yoooouuuu." Carrie whispers to me.

I ignore her the best I can. I must stay strong. For the name of...for the name of...well I can't really say love but STILL. For the name of SOMETHING. For the name of dignity!

"I eat Eclairs when I'm sad." Carrie blurts out. I turn to look at her so hard I get whiplash.

"Eclairs is a type of snack." Katie informs me. "I'm allergic to one of the ingredients in them. My face gets swollen so much it creates blisters, and sometimes the blisters get so bad I start bleeding from my face."

I make a sort of 'O_o' look. Weird.

"How about something shorter? It's best to keep your last name, though. To keep your family sacred. What is it?"

I swallow and look out the window. I see a bird dump on a jogger while flying. "Yaghtursufenshian."

Katie blinks. I can already see her WTH expression slowly creeping onto her face.

It's actually a lie. My last name is not Yaghhablahblahblah. It's actually something much, much worse. No offense, I mean. To the Yaghtursuwhattablahs.

"Yagh...too...soo...fen...shen?" Carrie tries sounding out. I nod, not even sure if 'Yaghtoosoofenshen' was what I had just said.

"Well, Ms. Yogosofenshin, I can see why you wanted to change." Katie says. I nod furtively.

"It's not Yogosofenshen, mom! You're so rude!" Carrie huffs. "It's Yaujturffensho!"

The rest of the ride was spent of them arguing over my pseudo last name.

We finally arrived.

Okay guys, I know, short, boring chapter. I know this chaptersucks, m'kay? But I'm busy now...

Confessions of an Innocent Bystander Part 2

...ok. I get it. I'm not pretty. I thought I could still be not pretty but still look feminine. But I guess I was wrong, God knows why, though.

Unfortunately I'm not God.

You know, it's funny how having Cat who is actually a dog as your only friend. It makes someone who is not really your best friend but just your friend become your best friend unwillingly.

OK, so me and Carrie were at her uber mansion house in her room. I was seriously all like, "OMG" because her room was huge. Instead of painted walls there were little postcard things of people's confessions, saying things like, "I wish he would just love me more" or "Sometimes I wish I said yes." or whatever. Anyways, her room is kind of depressing, in a colorful-ish way.

I was sitting in her bed, which is this futon thing. So I guess skinny people get to have skinny beds, too. How little I know of this world.

Her futon bed is really colorful also, but Carrie says she spills ketchup over it everyday and puts her human anatomy mannequin on it, and then sprays Febreze all over it. Which kind of beats the point, but she says she wants to be a detective when she grows up and that she's practicing. (she's trying to commit a fake murder, but shouldn't she be solving it and not committing it, anyways?)

We were getting ready for the Angry Girl Band thing, which started in like three hours from now. I dunno why, but Carrie started us as soon as we were let out of school, and so far she has died her hair black, put on this mascara and lipstick, and chose this really cute chic outfit to wear.

"Popina..." She said to me, pouting. I'm not an expert, so I was pretty much planning to wear my school clothes. I was wearing this bright yellow tee and this purple pleated skirt and torn sneakers. I thought I looked sort of nice, in a trashy sort of way.

"Yeah?" I mumbled, looking at this big postcard close to her futon bed that said,

"I CHEATED MY WAY THROUGH MEDICAL SCHOOL."

And it showed this creepy picture of this messed-up looking girl with red blood on her white shirt saying, "YOU DID THIS."

...ok?

"You know, Jonesy Andrews will be there. He's the guy I was dating before Ava messed us up."

I nodded, looking at another postcard hanging from the ceiling, saying,

"I'm glad I grew up being told that Santa wasn't real. That way every year I get my presents I know that they were given to me to people who know whether I had been good or bad this year and loved me either way."

...well. I never thought of it that way. Somehow looking at Carrie's walls makes me depressed and hypocritical. Sigh.

Carrie stood up and looked at me with this weird grin. "Do me a favor?"

I nodded eagerly, my smile sinking as I read a postcard behind her saying, "When I was little I thought I was special. Now I don't know anymore."

She smiled even wider. She walked up to her closet (Which can be a mini store) and picked out this oversized red t-shirt and these big saggy jeans.

OK, not to be sexist or anything, but these look like they're for men. I mean, there's a girl oversized tee and there's a guy oversized tee. Somehow you can just tell.

"Wear this." She squealed gleefully. I smiled weakly and nodded, taking the clothes and heading off to the closet.

Just as I passed my way into her closet door, my eyes glanced just once one more time, on this black postcard, "I wish I never said yes."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

...o...kay...

You know, I don't know if friends really do make other friends crossdress to make other men that are hopefully not crossdressers either jealous. But that's exactly what Carrie was doing, and obviously she must be a real friend since she's so nice to me.

So here I was, in The Angry Girl Band concert, dressed up as a boy, with my hair tied up in a cap.

I can't believe I really DO look like a guy. I mean, I'm flat chested, I have big shoulders, and big legs. Not to mention big feet. And don't forget that I'm a walking giant.

So almost the whole time Carrie was clinging to my arm, and I was getting sort of freaked out. I mean, wouldn't you?

And then we bump into Jonesy or whatever, and he has this other chick that's really short and small, and although almost as flat-chested as me she had better hair than me, which was big and bouncy. She's a blondie.

For a while the two just glare at each other. And then out of the blue, Jonesy TACKLES me.

I mean,

what.

the.

You get it.

OMG, in front of the crowd. This guy is all on me on the ground and he's all screaming at me.

IN SPANISH.

So I was all like, "Huh? What?" and then he gets even louder. And you know what the bystanders were doing?

NOTHING. This guy was loud and the band was on break, but they were ignoring us. They don't even care I'm about to be crushed to death by this random possibly spanish tackler.

So I start screaming, "ASSAULT! THIS IS PHYSICAL ASSAULT!!! THIS IS HARASSMENT!"

And then this guy KNEES me in the GROIN!

Since I really have nothing in there, it didn't hurt as much as he had hoped (but i might not be able to walk for a while) but I acted like it was so painful and stuff my contacts start to slip out, and I start CRYING.

And I guess this guy has SOME sensibility because he stopped and he was all like, "Are you alright? You ok, man? I'm really sorry..." Stuff an elementary schooler says when he accidentally makes a girl trip and cry.

OMG. And his blonde girlfriend screams, "I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!" And she pulls off her hair!!! Or should I say...HE!!!

Can you BELIEVE this?? I'm not the only one who was forced to crossdress here! OMG! It turns out I'm not the only person who looks like the opposite gender, either! This dude looks like a dude with a female body!!!

And then the dude pulls off his shirt to reveal this push up bra (no wonder) and starts taking the tissues out. And then he yells, "You have serious issues, Jonesy!"

In public.

Seriously.

And no one CARED.

Oh my gosh. And then Jonesy gets off me, and walks up to Carrie with his arms spread out, and they hug. That's right.

HUG. And by this time the Angry Girl Band came back and were playing Crystal Clear Beers. And the two were hugging and swaying to the beat the whole time, until there came the drummer's solo. In which they romantically kissed.

And for once the people around us started to look and care, and were saying things like, "Awwwww." And then you know what? Out came fire works. And the two kissed harder than ever.

I am SO confused.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Check that, confused and HAPPY. I have scored big-time. Carrie says that in return for bringing her and Jonesy back together (even though i don't know what i did) she would give me ALL of her postcards.

YAY!!! Now I can have a depressing room that is still colorful!

Carrie says that she's planning on remaking her room into this romantic detective sort of theme, with black and white and ugly brown as the main colors. She says she'll replace her colorful futon with this black waterbed. Because, quote quote, "Water is mysterious. Black is mysterious. I win."

Instead of spraying Febreze and ketchup on it she's planning on covering it with fresh red Roses from her garden. She also says that she won't put them in, one of the forty two butlers of hers will. They are all handsome, so I see why she wanted to do that.

She also says that other than post cards, she wants to give me a makeover. It's today.

She also says that a new name equals a new life. So by tomorrow, I am no longer Popina. Tomorrow, I will be...

Well, I have all day to think about it.

Confessions of An Innocent Bystander Part 1

(i'll do untitled next time b/c at the while im having writers bloc, enjoy this short story for now)



Confessions of An Innocent Bystander

OK, it's no joke I'm not attractive. I'm not one of those girls you read in books who are extremely unpopular and say they're not good-looking or whatever, but leave out the fact that they probably have really nice teeth or have nice legs are have a cute voice or whatever.

And I'm not one of those girls in those kinds of books who has a crush on the really popular guy who likes her after she magically transforms herself or whatever, and turns out to be crushed because of course the popular guy who has everything always is a snob on the inside, and I'm not one of those girls who after being crushed to the deepest extent in front of usually everyone in extreme humiliation suddenly find out that her life long best friend that is a dude is totally awesome now and has had a crush on her since the day they met, or whatever.

I'm just not like that. Why? 1)-I'm very unattractive, 2) I may be failing every single class but I'm smart enough not to fall for a popular dude, even if we all know he's a total sweetie, and 3) I have no friends except my doggie, Cat. Who cannot have a crush on me since the day we met because Cat is a girl and has more appeal than me in men and has like two bulldogs and one scrawny Chihuahua that come scratching on our screen door like everyday.

Let me begin my pessimistically rant about my appearance, starting from my big head to my even bigger toes.

My eyes are really tiny, but no one can see them anyways because it's hidden behind really big eyelashes. My eyebrows, more like eyeBROW, stands alone, a one single piece of greasy rug on my head.

My nose is the only thing ok with me, I guess, because it's normal size. But my lips are like so huge, they can practically battle it out with Angelina Jolie's. I have countless freckles sprinkled over my cheeks, which I really don't like.

I have really big sticky-outy ears, and my hair is also kind of ok; it's brown and shoulder-length and kind of straight, but really greasy and stuff and has really long bangs so my forehead has like a lot of pimples. I'm also flat as a board. I'm not like one of those flat people who have just little bumps, I have nothing. At all. I can't even wear a bra, I have nothing.

I have big shoulders too, which don't match with my really boney arms and hands. I'm not fat, but you can't say I'm skinny or even medium. I still have a little baby fat in my stomach, so you can just say I'm a chubba.

I have big legs that, although they are tanned in this nice way, are only tanned on the front, but in the back my legs are as white as paper. I have even bigger feet and even bigger toes, and the only pairs of shoes I have are a pair of flats and a dusty pair of Mary Jane's. (and one pair of dirty socks that seem to never be cleaned)

So you can see my point. As I said before, I have no friends except Cat, who is actually a dog, who is actually too busy hanging out with her male harem than to hang out with me.

As you know, dogs aren't allowed in a high school, so I generally don't have any friends. Teachers aren't even simpathetic, I only get on average C's. Except in PE, which has been a D since second grade.

My school IS semi-interesting, just not if you're me, because you're not involved in anything. I have some sort of dignity within me, I don't eat in the bathroom or the library or on the football stands. I just sit on a curb that holds a dead tree with rotten fruit barely hanging on it, which occasionally falls on my lunch or my hair or my pants. It's in the front of the door where people enter, so no one really bothers to stop or talk to me unless they want to be stampeded. It's also kind of loud and noisy, which is great because I love blocking it out. I don't like silence, because then I get frustrated and start talking and doing dumb stuff or whatever.

I'm just an innocent bystander in things. Like, those people in Hulk, who own these awesome trucks or SUV's or Camries, who get their beautiful cars crushed and thrown and stepped on by Hulk. And no one ever cares, they just look at Hulk. I mean, no one stops to think about poor random car guy, who is currently sobbing about his ruined car which probably was given to him by his dad for his 16th b-day, or whatever.

But unlike them, I don't own a car, I'm only 14. And unlike them, my dad will never give me a car anyways, or my mom. Maybe something useless like a night light, or a box of post-it's, but no, never anything I like.

I see cool things daily, like how Jenny Alvarez got angry at Lana Calabrieri for some reason once and started throwing spagetti and hot dogs at her. I liked Lana, but she was just about to walk out so she was next to me, and when she was hit by spagetti it hit my favorite baby blue T-shirt, and my pants smelled like meatballs long after that. But no one cares, because I'm just an innocent bystander.

There is NO such thing as a mean popular girl in this school. There are only mean boy-crazy girls here in this school. My school is a total cliche, I know I am.

But today was kinda cool. I was eating lunch, trying to get a squishy apple out of my pleated skirt, and it was in the middle of lunch where not many people get in or out of the doorways. It was a quiet and peaceful lunch, so my leg was twitching up and down from self-restraint.

As I said before, I don't do quiet.

But as if on a stage play, this red-headed girl I think was named Carrie or Mary or Berry or something like that came up to me and handed my this ticket slip thing.

"Hi Popina!" She said brightly. That's another thing. My name. Popina. The ugliest name EVER.

I smile this crooked smile because I don't really smile all that much and I think I forgot how to.

She handed me this slip thing and I grabbed it, but for some reason she wouldn't let go. She gripped my hand really hard and I got the point she didn't want me to move. She shoved my hand away and held it out again. "Here, Poppy!"

I finally clamped my hand on it skeptically and as soon as I did that the doors burst open and she finally let go, and then there was this really angry looking girl with short brown hair who looked like she was gonna bust a vein.

I think her name was Eva, or something but she practically screamed and marched at us, and started to shout and scream something in Mexican I couldn't understand. Which is a bad thing, because I take Spanish class and that's the only class I practically ace here.

But then Carrie, Berry, or Mary sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulder, making my glasses sort of slip halfway down my face.

"Popina's coming with me now. So, too bad!"

And then Eva or something started to scream and shout even more, and actually went up to me and started poking my flat chest really hard. I could understand a bit, but obviously Spanish class doesn't teach us how to say bad words, which I think she did say.

And then Carrie like, stood and pulled me up, and practically ran out the door with me so fast and so hard that she made the dead tree tremble and drop a rotten apple on Eva's shoes.

I think Carrie is in track or something, because iin a flash we were under the football bleachers, and she wasn't even breathing hard. But my hair is like, friction-y, so my hair was all static-ish and stood up and stuff.

Carrie turned her head to look out the bleachers to see if Eva was coming or not, and I took that time to go check out the tiket slip thing. It was some ticket to some band I kind of like, called something like The Angry Girl Band.

I sneezed kind of loudly and then she turned to look at me in this really eye-twitching way. "Those are tickets to The Angry Girl Band concert this Friday." It was Tuesday.

I smiled my really crooked smile but I guess she thought that that wasn't a good enough response, because then she said, "You know, The Angry Girl Band. Haven't you ever heard of Crystal Clear Beers?"

I nodded. Everyone in my town that has a good musical taste has listened to Crystal Clear Beers by The Angry Girl Band. They even play it in the Barber Shop. You know, Crystal Clear Beers, there ain't nothing here, go play with your toys, you won't get any boys... "Yes, I've heard of it. I love the new song, Rocker Girls."

She nodded, smiling, before singing in this really nice way, "I'm that rocker girl, lookin' at you through my rocker gear, seein' all trouble but won't make me tear..."

I nodded too and we both started singing it for the rest of the lunch period, which was really nice, having something to do. After all, not much noise goes around under some empty bleachers.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

I think I've had more fun with Carrie (checked!) than I've ever had in my whole life. I mean, I don't know why she chose me to come to, or why she dissed her best friend Ava (again, checked) but she says that Ava was always bossing her around and stuff and it made her lose her boyfriend Taylor whom she spent a lot of money on on trying to get them tickets for The Angry Girl Band, and she says that Ava probably was jealous and wanted to go to The Angry Girl Band instead, so for revenge she chose me to go with.

Sure, I was kind of hurt that I was just a baseball to throw at Ava's window, but I had a friend, that had tickets to the Angry Girl Band, and is really pretty and nice and smart and athletic and funny.

"Popina..." She said testily in Study Hall, looking at me in this disapproving way. "You seriously need a makeover."

I smiled weakly before pushing up my glasses. "What makes you say that?" Even though it was pretty obvious what was wrong with me. Carrie smiled and said, "My mum owns a spa. WE can go there, sometimes."

I smiled and said my thanks.

Yes, I so totally know this is a cliche. And I know that this feels like a dream because it's so unrealistic. It might even be one. But for now, I'm enjoying myself.

R&C PEOPLE!!!

Untitled...for now

(i couldn't think of a title for this story)

Genre: General, High School Fic

Danny Jacobs was not pleased with his new high school. No. Not pleased at all. As he walked down the new steps to the gates of a supposed new social life, he sniffed the air lethargically, and sighed. THIS was the school he was being sent to, after being top of the class since kindergarten, taking advance music, having played in front of the President, had a painting of his own sent to Africa to a rich family, all before sophomore year? Really. He did not deserve this.

As soon as he opened the doors of Gataway Ridge High School, he consciously reached his perfectly ironed tie uncomfortably. He was always sent to a private, first-class school, where his super-rich parents would pay for his every single desire no matter how ridiculous it was. Not that there was anything ridiculous about Danny, that is. Now it was all over.

Gwendolyn Jacobs had given birth to another boy just two months ago, in August. For some reason, they wanted their younger child, Harry, to be exact, to be a new and improved version of Danny. Highly professional teachers that a normal student would never hope to achieve came to his house regularly, and by the time Danny dressed for the first day of school he was sure that Harry-the little monster-has already memorized the alphabet.

He peered slowly at the main hallway testily, with a pouted lip. There, on the right corner, a very "mature" brunette was having her way with a muscle armed boy in a jersey. To his left, a boy with a mohalk and at least four piercings was pounding a scrawny, goggle-eyed freshman to a locker. The floor was dirty with scratch marks, and at least one or two lockers were broken; its doors hanging by a hinge.

He, however, thought himself much more higher than this, and walked up bravely to the mohalk boy and asked politely, "'Scuse me? D-do you know where the principal office is, by chance?" THe boy stopped immiediantly and sneered at him, and for a second Danny thought he was gonna slug him. But after a few seconds, he scowled and said, "The right corridor, take a left in the second exit and the first one on the right is his office. It's the...it's the big one." Before returning to the freshman as if he was never disturbed. Thinking that the boy would never notice, Danny didn't bother thanking him and followed his directions, where, as the mohalk boy had said, was the biggest one.

He opened the door timidly and asked quietly, "Is...is Principal Waldorf here?" The secretary eyed him for about a second longer than needed, before nodding quietly in a dowdy voice, "He's busy with another student. Please wait in that chair until he's done." She nodded at a small chair across from her desk. He obediantly sat down with his hands folded with a thin smile, and waited.

After what seemed like ten long minutes, a bald man with a quite large nosewalked out with a grinning girl. He was not smiling. Looking at him, he said in the same droning voice as the secretary, "Ahh...Daniel Jacobs...welcome to Gataway Ridge High School."

"Why thank you, principal, may I just tell you how excited I am to-"

For the first time in history, a teacher waved his voice off with little interest. "Well, Jacobs, I suspect you'll need a tour guide of this school? This school is quite vast, it wouldn't be wise if the smartest boy in our school was lost." Danny flushed, before realizing it wasn't a compliment.

Principal Waldorf turned to the girl, who was giggling slightly behind her fishnecked arm. "Isabella, as punishment for your vandilization, you will have to be Daniel Jacobs' tour guide. I want him to know all the corridors, rooms, and rules by the end of this week. If not, it's Saturday school for you. Again."

At this, Danny's smile faded quickly, before staring at Isabella and then at himself. They couldn't be any more OPPOSITE. His hair was perfectly combed, he was clean shaven, he had a skinny-broad figure with a stain-less white dress shirt, with a red tie, plain dark blue pants, and a pair of clean looking shoes.

But SHE, on the order hand, has a pale, powdered face, dark mascara, and even darker lips. She has pretty, long, shoulder-length wavy black hair, but it was limp and not bouncy and didn't look full of life. She was wearing leg and arm fishnets, a black cami with a metal chain necklace, two gold bracelets, one on each arm, and two large wristbands. She had a metal chain on her waist, holding up her black lacy miniskirt, and combat boots.

She smiled at him brightly, before the bells rang and the secretary dowdy shooed them away.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

What, did I do, to deserve this? He thought miserably. He was a gentleman, and last time he checked gentlemen didn't hang out with girls like Isabella.

"How do you do?" She asked in a drawling sort of voice. She sort of had a British tinge to it.

"Fine, actually." He replied without facing her.

"Can I see your schedule?"

"...sure." He rifled through his duffel bag for a few seconds before his fingers appeared gripping a sheet of paper. He handed his schedule to her.

Isabella studied the paper for a few seconds with her wide, penny-sized eyes. She suddenly burst into a grin. "We have the same schedule!" She rifled through her duffel bag and showed him her schedule, forcing him to look at her.

As Danny scanned her shcedule, his heart sank. She was right. They DID have each subject together.

Isabella smiled even brighter, making her pallid appearance quite unusual. "Well, then I can kiss Saturday school goodbye. This will be easy." She blow kissed the air with a mock laugh. Daniel didn't dare join her.

She seemed smarter than he thought because she stopped and changed the subject as quickly as she had met him.

"Can I call you Danny? You can call me Izzy."

"Whatever." He said with little interest. She frowned and cocked her head toward him.

"Like, what's your damage? Why are you being such an a-"

"I would like it if you didn't use profanity against me, Isabella."

"I would like it if you stopped being such a b-"

"I said quit it."

"You think I'd listen to a prep like you? Bulls-"

Danny turned to her with a piercing glare that she returned. They stood there for a few seconds. She growled.

"I was just trying to be friends. If you're gonna be such a...such a..." She hissed, "b. about it, then fine."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Just go away."

"I don't know how you people think, but F-Y-I, I'm a person too. I'm guessing you wouldn't want to go to Saturday School either, hmm?"

He stopped in his walk following her and crossed his arms. "Just tell me where homeroom is and I'll leave you alone."

She scowled. Her arm whipped in front of her and she pointed directly at the door in front of her. "We just arrived. Jerkwad." He rolled his eyes at her imaturity and walked in, her following reluctantly suit.

To Be Continued...

Q-Tips

I was bored, m'kay?

Genre: humor


How far can you push a Q-Tip into your ear until it causes permaneant brain damage?

Although this is a question we will never know the answer to, that is only because we are not that stupid to do it ourselves. However, there are some that surpass this stupidity immensely, and thoufore are considered, obviously, very stupid.

Jill Stu is a very good example of this.

Let us start at the beginning.

Jill Stu was very, very bored. Her mom worked as a doctor. Surprisingly, Jill was very talented in her academics-sadly, she was not so talented in the common sense area.

She was about to have an injection, and as you know, 12-year-olds don't like injections, because they don't like pain. So she sat in the clinic waiting area, reading a pamphlet about ear cleaning.

Would it hurt if you put the needle inside an injection into the earwax of your ear? She thought. However, although she is considered quite stupid, she is not that stupid, which means she still has an ounce of dignity within her. So, she mentally notes, she shall do this to her brother later on when her mother is not looking.

It was her turn, and an old man resembling either a cherry or a tomato calls her. We people call these people, "terries".

"Hello Jill." This man says.

"Hey...Terry!" She says, but gasping and immiediantly apologizing. "OMG, I am so-" Because children, like pain, don't like trouble.

"Hehe, glad to see you looked!" This terry man said, pointing to his nametag: Terry.

"Now, Jilly deary, I want you to hold your arm out straight so I can inject you."

Danger zone. She had to think of a way to stall.

"Um, well, did you, um, know that spiders get drunk on coffee??" She blurts out randomly.

"Terry" stops immiediantly. "Sp-spi-spi-der?!?!?!" He stutters.

Obviously, this was not a good thing to say, for Terry started to turn very, very red, and started to burst into uncontrollable tears. However, after a total or 30 seconds (which is pretty much forever in crying time in a hospital, if you are the dude injecting and not the injectee)he dignified himself.

Pointing a fat, stubby terry finger at poor, poor, Jill, he said, "Never speak of spiders e-ever again! Or else!"

As you know, Jill is quite stupid. "Or else what?"

This made "Terry" snap, and he howled for no reason whatsoever, pounded his chest with his fist, and ran out of the office clinic without another word.

After about 10 minutes Jill's all-natural child A.D.D. kicked in, and she started to get the paper bedsheets things and wrapped herself up like a mummy and stayed still and silent.

As you know, "still and silent" is quite a remarkable feat for a child to do, and she failed miserably.

She did not want to go outside and report to the office clinic, because she did not want another psychotic arachnaphobic attempting to inject her, or whatever.

Because of this, she grabbed a many dozen Q-Tips and started to count them silently, before finally boring herself and wondering where the heck was everyone; had they not just seen a very large Terry scream out of the room like a maniac?

She did not want to go, nor did she want to stay. Her mum was looking for her, but if she came out, she would be in deep shiz.

So she sat there, with her many dozen Q-Tips. It sounded very much like a party out there, and she had a large urge to go out there and party like hardy boy on crack.

She got out the bedsheet paper thing, wetted a Q-Tip, and started to draw a picture of two stick figures-stick figure Jill with a sniper rifle shooting large Terry stick figure, who was backign away from a monstrous spider and could not decide which was worse-Jill or the spider. Had he not just injected her and gotten over it she could have been out in no time. She called the picture, "A Arachnophobic Doctor's deepest Choices".

The noise was becoming unbearable and she soon decided that if she ever decided to come out there would be parents screaming at her and clinical offices staring at her, so she decided that, even though it was only 3:00, and she barely arrived at 2:30, 30 minutes were quite unacceptable, she should try and sleep.

This was quite a stupid move. But hadn't all her actions leaned hypocritical and quite stupid. This is why she is Jill Stu...pid.

How far would a Q-Tip have to go before it would cause permaneant brain damage? She thought.

This lead to the following mishaps.

Grabbing a Q-Tip, she stuck one deep inside her ear, her eye twitching.

Her eyes averted to a yellow sponge next to the sink as she pushed it ever so slowly, deeper.

It soon reached the point that she was coughing, and she covered her mouth to not release any sound.

Was that Spongebob sitting on the sink?

'If your sponge is wearing pants, you've probably gone crazy', nick toons network said in her mind.

She was at the point of sticking the Q-Tip almost halfway in when "Terry" rushed back inside the room.

"Sorry, Jilly, had to squeeze the lemon for a while there, hehe, scared me there, you know, with the spider. Me son has one, you know. Just found one, yesterday. My wife studies and breeds spiders too, y'know. Funny, though, she never mentioned the coffee intoxiation thing, turns out I'm a real bug lover, and my son-Johnny-was experiencing at my office-bring your child to work day today-he's six-and was putting his 2 most favorite spiders, Jeff and John, in our office liquids, he dipped Jeff in some rubbing alcohol-he's definetely dead-"

Terry took a deep breat,

"John was in the coffee, he was dead too, I know Johnly learned his lesson, but I was sure out of pur love to tellhim wha you just said."

He smiled at Jill. Jill glared at him, and could not find the right words to tell him how stupid that was. I mean, seriously? That's kinda weak.

So, out of loss of pure words, she shoved her Q-Tips uphis nose, grabbed her picture, and stormed out.

When she was coming home, she was defnitely hangng up "An Arachnophobic Doctor's Deepest Choices" up in her bedroom.