Hey, thanx for all the reviews! Wrote this in my free time at camp so hope you enjoy the update :) Please keep reviewing and reminding me you want more(you know, if you do), or updates may slow down or stop. Oh, and I just watched DTM today. ...*bursts into tears* That was the saddest thing ever, and the Declan/Fiona plot was all that made the movie at all exciting and worth watching. I really hope Declan finding out about her abusive boyfriend makes them close again. And I still think Declan likes Fiona too (He totally kissed her back for a second ;) )

Saturday, 3:17 p.m. - H&M, outside dressing room

Finally got back into the swing of things this morning when cousin Vicki called and announced we'd be taking another shopping trip around town. I didn't really have much else I needed to buy, except shoes - because, really, who ever has enough shoes? - but she likes when I come along, anyway, so I can tell her what looks good and what she should go a size looser on if she wants to keep her blood circulating.

Still, I'm getting quite bored waiting outside these dressing room doors. Especcially when everyone who comes along keeps asking, "Are you in line? Are you sure? Are you sure you're not in line?"

Then, Vicki comes out and does some sort of spin-twirl pose and asks if what she's wearing makes her look like she has enough butt. And I remind her that her butt is just fine. And that having a big brain is more important, anyway.

Everything she tries on looks so simple. At least compared to what I wear. I guess I can't help being such a culturally sound woman of the world.

Vicki just dresses to fit in, - and yet, stand out, you know, for boy-hunting - like Declan.

Speaking of that buff-chested brother of mine, I considered telling Vicki about the Incident That Shall Remain Nameless just to get it off of my chest and on something other than paper. But I figured she'd probably just start cracking jokes about how "close" Decs and I are, and how I probably dedicated an entire paragraph to how hot his sex hair is (which I so didn't.)

But, I mean, I have to admit, I understand why she thinks that way. She did see -

One sec.

No. I am not in line.

Anyway, we find plenty else to dish about - you know, that doesn't involve blood relatives or, say..syrup...

She keeps bringing up some fashion designer competition she wants me to enter - since, when I'm not bumping into shirtless men or writing about it, I'm sketching - but I don't get why she's so persistent. I know she's always up for my advice on what to wear, but it's not like she always takes it (Once, I told her not to but this pair of pants...she bought 'em anyway.)

It sounds like a great opportunity, I know, - who wouldn't want to see their ideas brought to life and strutted down a runway? - I just don't think I have the time to see anything brought to life right now. After all, I have those college-level writing classes Declan and I just started taking together - together, sigh... - and, um, yeah. I think that's it.

But still.

Okay, and maybe I'm just a little bit scared of, oh, I don't know, rejection. I don't think I could handle someone crushing my dreams like that. Dreams are all I have.

I might just not be fashion designer material.

I do, however, make an excellent wardrobe mistress, which, by the way, has a very nice ring to it.

So, there is no way in hell dear cousin Vicki or anyone else for that matter can convince me to enter this daft, pointless, cheap excuse of a contest.

I won't. Not a chance. Forget it. Never. Not on my -

Saturday, 6:15 p.m.

Okay, I just entered.

Oh, c'mon. Like you didn't see that coming.