Greyless
So OK, you're probably thinking "A blog? Why on earth would April – of all people – start a blog? That's so 90s." It's actually April Kepner (yeah like the month), but that's so passé. Mononymous is the new chic. Just ask Beyoncé, Madonna, Adele or Cher or better yet the artist formally known as Prince.
But seriously, it wasn't my idea. The blog I mean. I know vlogs are the latest thing, but my psychiatrist said I should try to put my thoughts into words, not images. I know following the steps of "Eat, Pray, Love" would probably have, like, the same results, but I'm pretty sure she didn't even watch the copy I gave her last week. And since my trauma originated in the 90s we agreed doing a blog is the most authentic.
Where to begin? Huh, I know. Me. I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl. I get up, I brush my teeth, and I pick out my school clothes. Then I go down for breakfast. Usually we get Starbucks, though, but I make sure my daddy has some vitamin C before he goes to work. Coz, you know, vitamins are vital.
Daddy's a litigator. Those are the scariest kinds of lawyers. Even Lucy, our maid, is terrified of him. He's so good he gets paid five hundred dollars an hour just to fight with people, but he fights with me for free 'cause I'm his daughter. And he likes to fight over the juice, but, like nine out of ten times, I win anyway.
So, today, I lost the juice fight, but that's like – the exception. In my defense I was totally distracted, because – to use lawyer lingo – exhibit A: Daddy totally refused to go visit grandma and granpa in Malibu and it's been, like, months. And exhibit B: Jackson is coming to dinner.
If you're wondering who Jackson is, and why he's coming to dinner…? we're on the same page.
After my mom died during a failed liposuction (total standard operation, daddy sued their fine asses, obvi) my dad was all sad, so he married again. After the mourning period, for sure. But then after a year or so he divorced her and that was five years ago, so like: get over it. But, anyway, Jackson is the son of my ex-stepmom and so he's coming over to dinner tonight, which I don't appreciate, but it's not like I wanna fight this fight over Jackson, even if I don't have to pay for it.
But I'm sure you don't wanna hear about Jackson. Let's talk about Arizona instead.
Arizona is my best friend. That's because we both know what it's like to have people constantly being jealous of us. I also have to give her snaps for her courageous fashion efforts. Absolutely 90s for sure.
Arizona and her girlfriend Callie are in this dramatic relationship. They fight, they make up. One time, Callie got a concussion after being in a car accident with Arizona. Then Arizona went on a plane and it crashed and now she's got that nasty scar on her leg. She was in the hospital for like, a month. I think they've seen that Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort movie too many times.
Anyway, whenever they're, like, fighting, which is basically always, I have to say: "Zona, why do you put up with that? You could do so much better."
And then she'll say: "You're right." but stay with Callie anyway, and I don't know, I guess she likes to hear it or something.
But Arizona, in case you're reading this, I think you guys are the cutest and I never get tired of saying this. Love you so much.
Moving on to... school. Well. Can't say I like that a lot. I mean, I'm good, obviously, because I'm smart. But it's not like it's my favorite place to be, you know? And I don't think you can blame me. It's the teachers that make it bad.
Like, for example, today I had debate class with Mr. Hall. And when I do a talk in debate, everybody knows it's not going to end up like Anne Hathaway in the Princess Diaries (whom I liked OK…when I was eight…but then she started that whole head shaved Les Mis thing and we all know how that stuff goes down from Britney Spears). My speeches are on point.
But even after solving the whole "who's going to pay for the Mexican wall?" issue by simplifying the whole thing so that anybody (even the Mexicans) would understand, Mr. Hall gave me a C. A C. In debate. I've never gotten a C. Quite frankly, until this day I knew I would never get a C. This must be the beginning of the end. Not even the Nucleanado's got anything on this. This is a disaster!
So, after a talk with Arizona I went home, had a talk with Lucy…the housekeeper remember…(even though I don't speak Mexican), changed my clothes from school to after school, and already felt way better about everything. I was just putting another coat of lipgloss (can't go wrong with that) when I heard Twenty One Pilots, band of the guys sans fashion sense but with self-pitying lyrics, blasting downstairs.
This could only mean one thing after the conversation I had with daddy in the morning: Jackson.
Of course I found him in his natural habitat: roaming the fridge.
Now you know I'm very charitable. I, like, tell Lucy to give the change to the Ronald MacDonald house when I'm craving a slushie. Or take my clothes from last season to the H&M conscious thing. Stuff like that. So, obviously, I would have to comment on Jackson's flannel shirt (ugh!) and choice of university (who's he kidding trying to hang around here? We all know the girls on the East Coast aren't at all particular).
But did he listen? No.
Instead he went into the living room and changes the channel from TLC to BBC or whatever. Some kind of news channel. Like, you've been here for two seconds and now you're already playing couch commando? He really has no manners.
But the worst part about when Jackson's coming over is when daddy starts comparing us.
Because he thinks Jackson's got "direction" and "knows what he wants to do". But I know what I want to do, too. I mean. I would, if I was 19 and in college, but I'm not.
So who's to blame? Not me, that's for sure.
And besides, Jackson of course managed to put me on the spot at dinner making daddy ask about my report card. Because of how smart I am I got out of it. But Jackson really should have known better.
After I've got Mr. Hall in the palm of my hand, getting Jackson out of the house will be my next project. That's for sure.
