-1Here's chapter two, guys! Thanks for all the reviews, it means a lot! I'll try to update as much as I can! Maybe twice a week at the most, but that's just a maybe because this is taking a lot of thought out of me, haha.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana. Mucho sadness.
NOTE: Oliver's journal entries now begin. BWA HA HA HA HA.
DEAR STUPID
CHAPTER TWO: PIZZA ROLLS WITH RANCH
Monday, December 17th, 2007, 4:33 p.m., kitchen.
This is seriously pointless. Pointless, pointless, I tell you. I have nothing to say about my personal life in here, and I never will. Dr. Harms is stupid. Ha. And she'll never even read this, so I can say it as much as I want.
DR. HARMS IS STUUUUUUUPPPIDDDD!!!!
And that's all I'm writing. Because like Dr. Harms, everything is stupid, including this diary stuff that will get me nowhere in life.
'm going to go eat a bunch of pizza rolls with ranch, only the greatest things that the entire galaxy will ever create, ever. And that is that.
SEEEEEYAAAAAA.
Monday, December 17th, 2007, 6:02 p.m., kitchen, again.
Okay, so the psychiatrist appointment tonight was thirty minutes worth of stupidity. Just like I thought it would be. Dr. Harms just went on and on about some story having to do with parental guidance and following the rules.
Okay, Dr. Harms, my mom's a cop. I follow the rules more than just about any kid I know. 'Cause my mom wouldn't ground me; she'd send me behind bars with a bunch of raving lunatics comparing their amount of teeth to each another.
I happen to have a great smile, naturally, being me, of course. So all those raving lunatics would knock me out in two seconds and steal all my pearly whites.
If only I were the cop. My mom would be breaking the law of insanity, so I could arrest her.
But yeah, the psychiatrist was stupid. I could be out surfing, or something actually somewhat FUN that DOESN'T involve sitting in a cold leather chair in front of a crazy lady, but noo. My mom is retarded and sends me to a psychiatrist. Unfair? Oh, I believe so. She'll just have to wait until our next family vacation. I am strapping her into a roller coaster. And she will suffer at one hundred feet in the air. Mwa ha ha.
Dr. Harms repeatedly tells me to pay attention, though, since I guess I was in "la la teenage boy fantasy land" throughout most of our meeting tonight. Which is so not the truth. I would hardly call me riding in a limo with a bunch of hot babes that were feeding me pizza rolls and dipping them in ranch for me "la la teenage boy fantasy land".
Of course, when I said this to Dr. Harms, she was like, "Cockyness is not going to get you anywhere in life, especially with bimbo blondes feeding you fattening, generic snack-foods with ranch."
Yeah, okay. And who's to say they were ALL blonde, THANK YOU VERY MUCH?
And pizza rolls -- GENERIC???? I don't even think this crazy lady knows who she's talking to. You don't insult pizza rolls in front of me. It's just plain lethal.
And cockyness? Did she not accuse me of staring at her -- um -- well, you know, those things. Let's call them pumpkins. They're round. --
Dear Lord. I am a perve. Crossing that out NOW.
But yeah, didn't she accuse me of that just yesterday? And I'M the cocky one. Right. And SHE went to school for eight years or whatever to study human emotions, personalities, and disorders? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT???
However, I somehow kept my cool. Even though, that pizza roll thing was way too far.
Anyways. After that conversation with Dr. Harms tonight, she was all, "Write down your innermost feelings in your journal."
So you know what?
I HAAATTEEEEEEEE MYYYY LIIIIIFEEEE.
There you go. That's as deep as Oliver Oken goes.
Good-bye.
Monday, December 17th, 2007, 9:45 p.m., bed.
I don't know why I'm writing 'cause I already have.
I'm bored and can't sleep. So.
Yeah. Um.
Okay.
This didn't even help.
P.S. Dr. Harms, you are stupid.
And you will never read that. HAAAA.
Goodnight.
Tuesday, December 18th, 2007, 10:32 a.m., U.S. History.
I'm dying of boredom. Seriously, call the ambulance already. I cannot wait until school is out after Thursday. CHRISTMAS BREAK! Santa should come early this year, no doubt.
I'm not the least bit excited about the psychiatrist appointment after school. I don't think I need help at all.
HI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-That was Lilly. Obviously. I mean, the usage of exclamation marks with hearts all around it is a bit frightening.
Let's see. Becca Weller is in this class. Awkward since we broke up and stuff. She sits diagonally to the right in front of me, too. And she occasionally turns around for God only knows what, most likely to piss me off, and says something to the girl behind her. And then she tosses her long hair back over her shoulder like the tease she is.
…And I don't know why I'm even writing about this. Wow. Good-bye.
BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
-Lilly, The Awesomest Girl EVER!
(As you can maybe guess, Lilly sits in front of me. I don't even use the word 'awesomest'.)
(Except we did have the awesomest lunch ever today -- pizza rolls with ranch. I'm guessing that when I die and go to Heaven, a cloud full of pizza rolls with ranch will be waiting for me. It will have a "RESERVED FOR SMOKEN' OLIVER OKEN" sign and everything. Mm.)
(EDIT, later: Rereading that last bit, maybe I do need a bit of help.)
Tuesday, December 18th, 6:43 p.m., bedroom.
Dear Stupid,
Yeah, Dr. Harms instructed for me to name you something. And I thought this name suits you perfectly, Stupid.
So, Stupid. Dr. Harms tonight actually gave me an assignment in here, which is dumb because she's not my teacher. And she's not reading it anyways because it's MY life, not hers to pry into, even if she's getting paid by my insane mother to do so, bless her heart. My mom's, not Dr. Harms. Although, I'm sure Dr. Harms could use a few people to bless her heart because I don't know how anyone can stand her.
Tonight she was like, "Oliver, tell me about this Becca girl." I let her read my last entry because I got tired of her just staring at me in silence because I wasn't saying anything. I don't want to talk to her. Who knows. Maybe I will be accused of pumpkin-staring again.
I made it simple -- "Ex girlfriend."
Apparently, this is actually complex, not simple, because Dr. Harms was all scribbly in her clipboard, and telling me, "Oh, first love, classic case on many of my patients. I'm sure you still have feelings for her and everything. But there are so many other fish in the sea, Oliver! You did tell me you were Smoking Oking, right?"
It was annoying that she didn't even say Smoken' Oken right, but even more annoying that she thinks I still like Becca. Which I don't. Just because she's in my U.S. History class, in the way of the board sometimes, so I'm forced to stare at the back of her head, hoping I will develop some sort of laser vision superpower to zap her head off, doesn't mean I like her. In fact, I think that means I don't like her much at all.
She's stupid, I tell you. Dr. Harms, I mean. Becca I guess is stupid, too. Since she likes to flaunt herself in front of me. Ha. Like I care. I can flaunt, too. I just don't have your dumb long flowy hair, Becca. So MEH!
But whatever. I'm writing in you, Stupid, because Mom has the T.V. I don't know why, but she's watching a Hannah Montana concert, at which I bet I was there, so I'm not missing anything, and it's not like I don't KNOW Hannah Montana personally or something. (Oh, the beauty of sarcasm.) Besides, Hannah Montana concerts tons of girls. Which means about half will be hot. And at least half of them will want to write their number on my hand. And I will only call about half of them, if even. This is the only way I see math ever coming into my life.
Uh, yeah, anyways, I'm supposed to write out my "true thoughts about my best friends". My "dislikes" and "likes" about them. I really don't want to write paragraphs like an essay, so a list will do.
Oh, this reminds me. Lilly and Miley? Oh, it's just freaking HILARIOUS that I'm being sent to a psychiatrist. Like ROTFLMAO kind of hilarious. I don't even know what that term even means, but Lilly uses it online all the time every time I say something funny, I guess. Even when it isn't really funny. Like yesterday.
O0okenator (don't make fun of my screen name. I lack creativity, sue me.): i saw this guy on the beach yesterday
O0okenator: he was eating an ice cream cone and i wasnt payin any attention so i ran into him and his chocolate strawberry vanilla swirl got on my brand new $50 shirt!!!!
sk8r4lfe92: HAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!1111 ROTFLMAO.
O0okenator: … i had no idea it was that funny lilly. in fact it isnt. i couldve punched someone.
sk8r4lfe92: BUT UR NEW FIFTY $ SHIRT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. WHAT BOY DOES THAT!
And the rest of that internet conversation would make you lose brain cells, so I won't go into it.
Anyways, you'd think my friends would have the least bit of concern for me. I mean, people who go to the psychiatrist generally have a major issue. I mean, I don't, but you'd think at least Miley, being so caring as she is, would be all, "Oh, Oliver! What is wrong? I feel so sorry for you!!!" and give me a bunch of sympathy and sad faces that I probably deserve.
But no. She just thinks it'll blow over in a week. However, my mom's not that kind of "blow over in a week" kind of mom. Sometimes I feel like Miley's lucky she doesn't have a mom, as mean as that sounds. She gets a lot of perks that I'm getting majorly jealous of.
It's also very funny apparently that I have to keep a diary.
Crossing that out. JOURNAL. There, manliness restored.
But yeah. This is something how it went today.
Lilly: Oh, OLIVER! Are you writing about your passionate love for Sarah (the clingy weirdo dorky girl I somehow liked in eighth grade that Lilly and Miley will never let me live down) in there?
Miley: I can just see it now! "Her eyes, they shine radiantly like the sun! I only wish I could take her into my arms and kiss her until we run out of oxygen!"
Lilly and Miley: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (die of girlish annoying giggles)
Me: I know where you two live.
But yes, anyways, since I'm way off-topic, here's the list I'm supposed to make.
LILLY TRUSCOTT
Likes:
1. Best friend since forever. And we're not even the same gender. Go us.
2. Always there for me and to make me happy when I'm down.
3. She skateboards pretty good. I wish I could skateboard as well as her. I once tried this trick she did on a half-pipe and broke my nose. So I had this weird thing over my nose, and girls, like, avoided me. It was really a sad and emotional time for me. And thanks to Lilly and Miley's wonderful thinking skills, I was cursed with the nickname "Broken Oken" for about three weeks.
4. She helps me with homework… sometimes.
I feel bad that I can't think of anything else to put here, but we all know I don't hate her, so relax.
Dislikes:
1. Since I've known her forever, she knows every LITTLE thing about me, like the time I wet my pants in the fourth grade at the movie theatre because I got scared.
2. She's literally ALWAYS THERE FOR ME. Like, when is she ever… gone? Speak of the weirdo, she's calling me… Okay, back. That was about five seconds of my life wasted. And ear-drum damaging. I literally just got a squeal of, "OLIVER!!! COME OVER HERE!!!! ME AND MILEY ARE WATCHING HOME VIDEOS!!!!" Then, click. I'm not going over there…. Well, until I'm done with this list anyways. Girls are way too manipulative.
3. She crashes into me on her skateboard. A lot. Ouch.
4. She talks my ear off. This either means by screaming, shouting, or just talking without breathing in between sentences. Ouch, again.
And I think I'll just leave it to four things on each list so I can get going over to Miley's. I mean, I think they're at Miley's? Whatever, I'll just call to be safe. Oh, yeah, Miley.
MILEY STEWART
Likes:
1. Her name for some reason? Just say it out loud -- MILEY! Uh, yeah, wow, I think Mom put something in the spaghetti tonight.
2. She's (secretly) international pop sensation Hannah Montana. What's not to love there?
3. Like Lilly, she's always there for me and making me smile. About a week ago, I was slamming my head into my locker repeatedly because of how confusing and stupid and dumb and I-could-go-on-forever-with-synonyms-of-the-word-"brain-frying" Algebra II is, and Miley came up to me and was like, "Hey, ya donut. Looks like Algebra II sucks. Can't do much, sorry, but here's a cookie." And she handed me a chocolate chip cookie. I know, this really isn't that great of a thing, but seriously. That chocolate chip cookie could've gave a pack of pizza rolls and ranch a run for its money.
4. Uhh… she's pretty? I don't know?
I feel bad. I feel like I just put number four there because I couldn't think of anything else. But I'm not lying or anything. As awkward as that sounds, Miley is pretty and stuff. OKAY, MOVING ON.
Dislikes:
1. Every person in the whole world seems to like her.
2. She has money that I definitely would kill for. Okay, not kill, unless it were a worm. Those things can diiiieeeee.
3. She likes Jake Ryan, also known as Jerk Rat. Seriously, HOOOOW?! So he's famous and everything. And he's a "stud". But there are soooo many other "studs" out there! COUGH COUGH. One of my best friends should NOT like Jerk Rat. This is one jerky worm-rat I'd kill. (Refer to Dislike number two.)
4. Her airhead ways sometimes. But that makes her Miley, and I like Miley.
Well, as a friend, I mean. Yeah. I can think my friends are pretty… shut up. Okay. Yeah.
I'm going to stop writing now and beg for the remote back. My hand is cramping. So not only is my mom paying for someone to try to become my brain, but also make me get arthritis by the time I'm twenty. Oh, joy, oh, rapture.
-----
Sorry it's not as funny as it was supposed to be, I got lazy and tired of editing it over and over again. The whole Moliver thing will really start next chapter, I think? And the next chapter's fairly shorter compared to these two, so I apologize in advance. Haha, that is saying people actually want me to continue. Anyways, reviews, pleeease?
