A/N - Originally this was supposed to be a fic challenge - shuffle your music and write fics related to the first ten songs that play... but I'm lazy, so here are three. The first one may seem really random, but look up what the song means (if you don't know already) and you'll get it. One guess who that particular little ficlet is about.

Poker Face - Lady GaGa

Can't read my,

Can't read my,

No he can't read my poker face

(She's got me like nobody)

"Trust my sister to be a complete weirdo," Trey snorted in disgust. Sidney just nodded, forcing herself to agree with her boyfriend, biting her lip. It was a well known fact around school that Trey Michaels' sister, Michelle, was a little on the strange side - she didn't like music, was one of very few to jump at the newest fashions and she's never had a boyfriend - because that was such a bad thing when you were thirteen years old, obviously.

What was less well known was that Sidney and Michelle could often be found kissing behind the school building.

Waking Up In Vegas - Katy Perry

Why are these lights so bright?

Did we get hitched last night?

Dressed up like Elvis

Why am I wearing your class ring?

Sid woke to what could be described as, "the bitch of all hangovers", rubbing her head. After a moment she felt something cold touch her forehead and looked at her left hand, spotting a silver ring on her ring finger.

"Wh..." she stared at it for a while, jumping as someone moved next to her.

"Alright?" Mot muttered, appearing from under a blanket.

"Think I got married," Sid snorted and Mot chuckled, stopping after a few seconds to frown at her left hand.

"Did we both get married?" She asked, raising her left hand to show a ring on her hand. Sid shrugged.

"I remember Pop saying you may kiss the bride..."

"Guess we're married then..." Mot turned to her with a shrug and a grin. "Mornin' wifey."

Don't Let Me Get Me - Pink

LA told me, "You'll be a popstar,

All you have to change is everything you are."

"But I don't want to change," Galileo told the group in front of him. "I'm happy now," he shrugged.

"All you have to do is lose the jacket," one of the men told him. "Maybe get some new jeans, a haircut..."

"You're in the public eye now, Mr Figaro," another told him. "You're expected to be a good role model. What would parents do if their children started ripping their jeans and covering their clothes in dirt?"

"That they're just being children?" Gaz muttered, glaring at them.