I own nada.
Thanks for your reviews. I honestly can't tell if what I write is funny so if it starts to suck, do tell.
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O.K. Something is seriously wrong! ARGH! Am I supposed to start watching documentaries just to fucking learn to do this shit? I mean, what the hell? Are they really trying to tell me that all the criminals I watch on the news are smart? Because I don't get why the hell my stupid costumes weren't working. I HATE TELEVISION SHOWS!!! What's with the bloody fiction? That's not why we watch, dumbasses! If I wanted some fairytales, I'll pick up Snow White! And just so we are clear, wearing black outfits during the day doesn't stop you from being seen, assholes.
Anyway, so I figured out what I had to do. I went to a clothing store and bought myself a bikini but seriously, people are not lying when they say that America is a fat nation. Can you believe that I had to go to the children's section to get something? Ages 3-5 no less. Imagine, some three year olds have boobs as big as mine! Wake up America! Put the broccoli down.
Summer has been bugging me so I knew it was her turn. She's a stupid bitch that loves rubbing her relationship with Seth in my face. Like, I'm supposed to be jealous. Hello, sad, pathetic twit, you're talking about someone that used to make out with a plastic horse. Yeah, what a winner.
My foolproof plan involved me going to his room. And of course I couldn't go through the front door because his parents would probably stop me to have a chat. Because of my maturity, parents like talking to me. "Blah blah blah I'm not going to be home. If the crack-exposing plumber comes, could you give him this check?" "Blah blah, I'm going to the hospital for a biopsy, could you babysit Kaitlin?" Like seriously, what makes them think I give a fuck about anything they have to say? Yeah, I know, I'm the sweetest girl in the world and everyone loves talking to me, but enough already! Could you for once, just once think about me and let me talk about myself? I have stuff to say too. Is that too much to fucking ask!?!? Selfish trolls!
Ouch. My tummy hurts. Actually, not really my tummy but the skin is kind of raw. Can you believe that I had to climb this bloody tree in my bikini so I could get into Seth's stupid room? All because I was trying to go unseen. And there was a ladder next to his window but I didn't even try it. No... I knew it had to be a trap - that's how they get you. So I climbed the fucking tree and I have all these stupid scratches but it's o.k. - they make me look exotic.
Once I climbed into the room, I went to work. I picked up the phone, found Summer's number and called.
"Hello?" she said.
I coughed and deepened my voice. "Hello, it's Seth and I think you suck."
"What?"
"You suck, you blood sucking leech! I ran away because of you. Never talk to me again!"
"Coop, are you o.k.?"
"Who is Coop? I said I am Seth."
"Coop, just stop it! I know it's you. You're calling me from your cell phone!"
Shit! I hung up. I'd forgotten about caller-id! Why, why, why did some fucktard come up with this? Who gives a fuck about who's calling you? See what they did? They just fucked me up. They intentionally fucked me up. But it's alright -I'll get them too.
Anyway, I had to fix it, right? So I picked up the phone in his room and dialed her number again.
"Hello?" she said hesitantly. I guess the caller-id said it was Seth calling. Victory is mine! I have to find the inventor of caller-id and kiss him. I want to have his babies! He's so cool! Oh, how I love thee.
I figured that the first time, she didn't think that I was Seth because my voice was far too manly. I bet his balls are smaller than the grain of corn I had for lunch. So I decided to speak in a squeaky voice - hey, isn't that how all geeks sound?
"Summer, this is Seth, and I hate you."
"Marissa!" she screamed. Is this bitch telepathic or what? Wait... telepathic means she can speak to my brain... then what is she then? Some kind of witch? Damn, I wish this was Salem... how I would love to burn her chubby body on the stake!
"I am not Marissa!"
"Yes, you are!"
"No, I'm not!"
"Are too!"
"No, bitch."
"You know what? You are really sick!" she screamed right before she hung up. I guess she finally realized that Seth was breaking up with her.
Having succeeded in that task, I looked around the idiot's room. What a weirdo. I wondered where he kept my picture so I looked. I checked in the drawers, under the carpet, under his pillow, under the bed, then I noticed it had springs. Momzilla doesn't like beds made with springs - she thinks they are low class. She should talk about low. Apparently her cholesterol is just as low as her droopy boobs.
Anyway, so the bouncy bed made me think of trampoline and before I knew it, I was jumping on the bed. Except after the second bounce my freaking head hit the ceiling. I feel alright now, but if I see a lump, I am going to have to sue the Cohens. They should know better than to bring death traps into any place I could possibly be, meaning anywhere in California. They'd better pray I am alright.
I guess the noise alerted them because shortly after, Kirsten rushed into the room. And it was like, fuck, these stupid parents want to talk to me. From the look on her face I could already tell she was about to go into some spiel about her stupid cases. Really, geriatric people, I don't give a fuck.
She was standing in the doorway, so I figured I'd better leave the way I came in. She must have been really desperate to discuss this crap with me because she grabbed my arm, but luckily, I was able to escape.
Today, I saw her with a huge bandage on her hand. Apparently, she'd grabbed on to something really sharp. Dumbo.
Thanks for your reviews. I honestly can't tell if what I write is funny so if it starts to suck, do tell.
-----------------------
O.K. Something is seriously wrong! ARGH! Am I supposed to start watching documentaries just to fucking learn to do this shit? I mean, what the hell? Are they really trying to tell me that all the criminals I watch on the news are smart? Because I don't get why the hell my stupid costumes weren't working. I HATE TELEVISION SHOWS!!! What's with the bloody fiction? That's not why we watch, dumbasses! If I wanted some fairytales, I'll pick up Snow White! And just so we are clear, wearing black outfits during the day doesn't stop you from being seen, assholes.
Anyway, so I figured out what I had to do. I went to a clothing store and bought myself a bikini but seriously, people are not lying when they say that America is a fat nation. Can you believe that I had to go to the children's section to get something? Ages 3-5 no less. Imagine, some three year olds have boobs as big as mine! Wake up America! Put the broccoli down.
Summer has been bugging me so I knew it was her turn. She's a stupid bitch that loves rubbing her relationship with Seth in my face. Like, I'm supposed to be jealous. Hello, sad, pathetic twit, you're talking about someone that used to make out with a plastic horse. Yeah, what a winner.
My foolproof plan involved me going to his room. And of course I couldn't go through the front door because his parents would probably stop me to have a chat. Because of my maturity, parents like talking to me. "Blah blah blah I'm not going to be home. If the crack-exposing plumber comes, could you give him this check?" "Blah blah, I'm going to the hospital for a biopsy, could you babysit Kaitlin?" Like seriously, what makes them think I give a fuck about anything they have to say? Yeah, I know, I'm the sweetest girl in the world and everyone loves talking to me, but enough already! Could you for once, just once think about me and let me talk about myself? I have stuff to say too. Is that too much to fucking ask!?!? Selfish trolls!
Ouch. My tummy hurts. Actually, not really my tummy but the skin is kind of raw. Can you believe that I had to climb this bloody tree in my bikini so I could get into Seth's stupid room? All because I was trying to go unseen. And there was a ladder next to his window but I didn't even try it. No... I knew it had to be a trap - that's how they get you. So I climbed the fucking tree and I have all these stupid scratches but it's o.k. - they make me look exotic.
Once I climbed into the room, I went to work. I picked up the phone, found Summer's number and called.
"Hello?" she said.
I coughed and deepened my voice. "Hello, it's Seth and I think you suck."
"What?"
"You suck, you blood sucking leech! I ran away because of you. Never talk to me again!"
"Coop, are you o.k.?"
"Who is Coop? I said I am Seth."
"Coop, just stop it! I know it's you. You're calling me from your cell phone!"
Shit! I hung up. I'd forgotten about caller-id! Why, why, why did some fucktard come up with this? Who gives a fuck about who's calling you? See what they did? They just fucked me up. They intentionally fucked me up. But it's alright -I'll get them too.
Anyway, I had to fix it, right? So I picked up the phone in his room and dialed her number again.
"Hello?" she said hesitantly. I guess the caller-id said it was Seth calling. Victory is mine! I have to find the inventor of caller-id and kiss him. I want to have his babies! He's so cool! Oh, how I love thee.
I figured that the first time, she didn't think that I was Seth because my voice was far too manly. I bet his balls are smaller than the grain of corn I had for lunch. So I decided to speak in a squeaky voice - hey, isn't that how all geeks sound?
"Summer, this is Seth, and I hate you."
"Marissa!" she screamed. Is this bitch telepathic or what? Wait... telepathic means she can speak to my brain... then what is she then? Some kind of witch? Damn, I wish this was Salem... how I would love to burn her chubby body on the stake!
"I am not Marissa!"
"Yes, you are!"
"No, I'm not!"
"Are too!"
"No, bitch."
"You know what? You are really sick!" she screamed right before she hung up. I guess she finally realized that Seth was breaking up with her.
Having succeeded in that task, I looked around the idiot's room. What a weirdo. I wondered where he kept my picture so I looked. I checked in the drawers, under the carpet, under his pillow, under the bed, then I noticed it had springs. Momzilla doesn't like beds made with springs - she thinks they are low class. She should talk about low. Apparently her cholesterol is just as low as her droopy boobs.
Anyway, so the bouncy bed made me think of trampoline and before I knew it, I was jumping on the bed. Except after the second bounce my freaking head hit the ceiling. I feel alright now, but if I see a lump, I am going to have to sue the Cohens. They should know better than to bring death traps into any place I could possibly be, meaning anywhere in California. They'd better pray I am alright.
I guess the noise alerted them because shortly after, Kirsten rushed into the room. And it was like, fuck, these stupid parents want to talk to me. From the look on her face I could already tell she was about to go into some spiel about her stupid cases. Really, geriatric people, I don't give a fuck.
She was standing in the doorway, so I figured I'd better leave the way I came in. She must have been really desperate to discuss this crap with me because she grabbed my arm, but luckily, I was able to escape.
Today, I saw her with a huge bandage on her hand. Apparently, she'd grabbed on to something really sharp. Dumbo.