Dear Diary,
I just heard Britney's new song, "I'm a slave for you." Word. Man that biznitch can sing. In the song, I think she's talking about being a love slave for Justin Timberlake (you know, the Backstreet boy with the fluffy afro hair), which is pretty jiggy.
Yesterday I told Lavender Brown that she's one hot biznitch and that I'd really like to be her slave, and she laughed at me! I talked to Parvati, and she said that I should act more like some dude named Freddie King, III. Apparently he's some big movie star, like the next Brad Pitt, so I watched his movie "She's All That" to get some pointers. The most important thing I learned is persistence. Even though you've got globs of hair gel running down your face and the girls think you're a lot more attractive than you really are, you still gotta go for the girl because she was destined to become your ho.
Word,
D to the izzo, C to the Izzay
Dear Diary,
The most amazing thing happened to me today! There I was sitting in the library, memorizing the lyrics to "Big Pimpin," when suddenly I heard a girl crying. And, being the the ladies man that I am, I immediately went to investigate. Passing through shelves of old books, I discovered that at the end of one of the bookracks sat a chick, not a particularly attractive chick, but a chick all the same. Actually, she was really quite mannish, but that's beside the point. Then I realized who she was-Eloise Midgen, the girl who had cursed her nose off to get rid of her pimples. We had been friends earlier on; geeks tend to band together. She was the only nice person to my first year.
"Hi Eloise," I said.
"Who are you?"
"Why, it's me, Dennis Creevey."
"Oh!" she said, turning red with embarrassment, "I'm sorry! I didn't recognize you under all your new...clothes."
I looked down at myself, at the Lakers jersey and the fake diamonds around my neck, and I realized how silly I had been to try and change myself. Because it doesn't matter-the car I drive or the "ice" around my neck. All that matters is that you recognize that it's just about respect. It doesn't matter-the clothes I wear or where I go and why. All that matters is that you get hyped and we do it to you every time.
So I reached down and gave Eloise my hand. I got the hot biznitch, and all I had to be was myself.
Pretty jiggy, eh?
Love,
Dennis
I took the "it doesn't matter" part from Nsync's "Pop," in case you didn't notice. I don't really like that song, though. The ending is corny, I know. But I think it's nice that Dennis stayed true to himself in the end, which is what finding the jiggy within yourself is all about. Plus, I got to mention Eloise Midgen, who's one of my favorite obscure characters. I know she's a couple years older than Dennis, but they seem like a good match.