January 8, 1997
11:58 pm
Dear Diary,
In theorem, college is a bit old to start a diary, but who gives a shit? My own life is important enough to chart. I think I'm destined for greatness. After all, my name is Destiny.
I mean, I'm a freshman at University of Nevada and there's a fifty-fifty chance that I'll get to be a dancer at the Bellagio. I mean, I'm a blonde after all. And okay, I might be slightly too short at five foot one, but I've got the body for it. The only thing left is for me to meet a man with real aspirations. After all, I'm going places. I might be a headliner after college.
Maybe I could start dating a Backstreet Boy, but I'm not famous enough yet. And I've been to all the frat parties both semesters, and it's like no one is worthy of me. I want to meet the kind of guy who can do something for me. Like buy me expensive jewelry and pay for my stuff and get me out of school.
My mother said that the only reason a girl like me should go to college is for her MRS. But all the rich guys are, like, at the big fancy schools like UCLA that I couldn't get into. It's so not fair. I mean, I'm like gorgeous. Where have all the good guys gone?
I mean, there's some pretty rich guys at the casinos, but they, like, have wives. I am nobody's mistress. Well, not since the last time, when the guy's wife nearly broke my nose. But it was only once or twice.
Like, I don't know. Life is so annoying. I mean, my gal pal Candi has a rich boyfriend and she's a heifer. Like, a size 8. Ugh. When will I meet my special someone?
January 9, 1997
12:33 pm
Dear Diary,
I didn't get the job. I can't believe it! It's like my whole life is over. All I have are my stupid classes now.
I overheard the casting guys talking, and I know what the problem is. My breasts. I knew B cups weren't big enough! God, I need a boob job, but I don't have the money. And now, I can't get the money unless I take that hostess job at PJ Gilligan's. But I can't. I still have shame. I think.
I miss high school. In high school, I was the shit. Now, my life is shit. I was the most beautiful girl in Minnesota, the winner of the All-American Teen Pageant in '94, '95, and '96.
But here, that doesn't matter. I'm in a jungle of Amazonian beauties and extra enhanced girls. It's like being a Seventeen cover girl in a world of full-blown supermodels. The only guys who notice are college chumps with no money. I never should have left Weiland.
I really thought I could be a showgirl, like in "Copacabana". But I was so wrong. I'm nothing in Vegas. Nothing but a blonde, flat chested smurf.
January 11, 1997
12:55 am
Dear Diary,
Why is it impossible to stand school? I thought I could at least meet a husband in college, but since that has been a bust, it's like I have no reason to be here. I only have one male professor, and he's not even cute!
I guess I should drop out and move back home. There isn't anything for me here. I could start up on the pageant circuit again. I went out tonight, and no one important even noticed me.
I mean, sure, I hooked up with this one guy who was kind of cute, and I even gave him a blowjob, but he was, like, maybe three inches taller than me, and I don't think he was rich. I haven't seen him at UNevada, but who knows? Maybe he's in one of my classes. Not that I'm into him. I mean, like I said, he's fairly cute. Like a little leprechaun.
And then I hooked up with Candi's boyfriend, but since he won't break up with her, I'm still high and dry. It sucks raw ass.