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.

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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.