Ugh finally updating! WE FOUND OUR MUSE! lol anyway you know what to do. Read and review...

-lain and missie


To Whom It May Concern: (aka, the anger suppressing journal of mine)

I think Lavender and Pavarti have done a fabulous job of completely butchering my looks. I was informed by my dear gay friend Blaise that I was going to be the only one wearing black, everyone else was to be wearing white, which explained his too tight, fresh off the village people's wagon white jeans and matching white leather jacket. He even frosted the tips of his black hair (excuse me, 'dark espresso brown'. Blaise doesn't like it when people call it black) white. And they say I have issues, Dr. Holier-Than-Thou would have a field day with him.

So, after Lavender and Pavarti stuffed me into my dress (damn my mother's genes! Why couldn't I inherit Dad's mother's breast size instead of the 32D's Mum so graciously bestowed upon me? No one else has giant boobs with a mind of their own. If they pop out of this…) and tamed the untamable mess I call hair (the thing has a mind of it's own. I think it even bit Pavarti when she sprayed it with water) I was looking pretty good. The dress accents the finer things about my figure, the curves not the boobs. The back of the skirt, however, poses a hazard to my health. If one of my stilettos feels the need to make contact with the longer part of the skirt, I could find myself hurling towards the punch bowl. Again. (Think Christmas, two years ago…)

So, while Blaise was rambling about the quote 'fox' end quote he'd seen in Madame Malkins this morning, Lavender and Pavarti insisted on waxing my legs. The Muggle way, mind you.

I think that may be worse than giving birth. At least when you give birth you can have potions given to you that dull the pain of expelling a watermelon sized thing out of your body, but with waxing…

First, they applied hot (and I mean BURNING) sticky shit (or at least that's what it smells like) that sticks to your skin in the most uncomfortable way. Then, they put paper on the sticky stuff, say a few words about how brave you are for doing this (I wish) and rip it off. Of course, both of them laughed when I started swearing and kicking, before slathering the rest of the shit on my legs and ripping it off.

Lavender: Come on Ginny, no one ever said beauty was easy.

Pavarti: Yeah, no pain no gain.

Me: Shut it.

Lavender: At least pretend to be grateful, you are going to be the light of the party.

Me: The darkness, I'm in all black remember?

They just don't understand my witty sense of humor.

Love, the girl who can't believe she's saying love to an inanimate object that has no advice to give her in the case of one Mr. Harry-bloody-Potter's return to England,

Ginny/Nevvi Weasley

PS If I don't live this down, I'm putting a spell on this journal thing to burn anyone who tries to open it after I die. That is, when I find the spell…

PPS Kill me now.

PPPS Wait, kill me after I see Harry.

PPPPS Never mind, I think I'm losing it.

PPPPPS Kill me now.

'Too many Ps to write' S And now I have


Journal,

I'm in the loo right now…God my life is over! This is what's happened so far…

So there I was. Not only was I twenty-four, dolled up in Versace ( a black number that I got for the occasion,) but Harry Potter was at my party. Harry-I-left-the-country-never-to-reture-except-on-nationally-observed-holidays-Potter. My birthday is not a nationally observed holiday. Anyways…I walked into the club in the magical Mecca, London, and I see…MY SHRINK! BLOODY HELL! So I march up to Dr. "Holier-than-thou" Victors and ask:

Me: Who the bloody hell invited you?

Then Blaise appeared at his shoulder.

Blaise: Here Vicky I got you a drink.

Me: Blaise!

And then I fainted.

I

Bloody

Fainted!

AT MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY!

So I started to come to and the first thing I see is Harry-I-left-the-country-never-to-reture-except-on-nationally-observed-holidays-Potter. Goodlord. Harry and his bloody hero complex.

Me: groan.

Harry, laughing: Are you okay?

Me: Please tell me Blaise isn't flirting with my shrink. I don't think I can handle it. Lie to me.

Harry: No actually Dean is.

Me: What?

Harry: Actually they're just talking…I think?

Me: Oh god…

Blaise: You okay firecrotch?

Me: Blaise I said to NEVER call me that again.

Harry: fire-what?

Me: Never mind

Blaise: Anyway you m'kay?

Me: Yeah sure

Harry helped me sit up. Then the blond brigade, as I dubbed them, rushed over.

Blair: Ohmygosh Nevvie! Are you okay hun?

Natacha: We were 'ow you say 'orried?

Roma: Like totally.

I groaned hoping they wouldn't realize who Harry was or ask. I was wrong.

Blair: Who's your hero, Nevvie?

Harry looked up and they saw his scar.

There was a chorus of "like ohmygosh!"

Blair: You're like Harry Potter!

Natacha: Why didn't you tell us you're dating Harry Potter?

Me: I'm not!

Harry: She isn't!

Blaise: I am!

Blair, Natacha, Roma, Harry, Me: WHAT!

Then Blasie sat on Harry's lap. I almost passed out again.

Me and Harry: BLAISE!

Me: Blasie I need to talk to you in the little girls room right now.

He hopped off Harry's lap like a little yappy dog and followed me away from Harry.

When we we were safely out of earshot I started yelling.

Me: BLAISE WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

Blasie: Well he is very attractive!

Me: He's not gay!

Blaise: Well according to the Prophet he is.

Me: What?

Blaise handed me a copy of the paper with a picture of Blaise on Harry's lap on the front cover.

Me: When did you get this?

Blaise: Just now.

Me: but that just happened!

Blaise: Well they do promise fast service!

Then I stormed away but before I could find Harry to apologize to him I ran into Dr. "holier-than-thou" Victors.

Dr: Ginny!

Me: Oh damn

Dr: Mr. Thomas has just informed me of some interesting things!

Me: really?

Dr: Did you really cast a bat-bogey hex on Mr. Malfoy?

Me: YES AND HE BLOODY DESERVED IT! NOW PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!

When I finished yelling the whole party was staring at me and I felt like belting out a chorus of "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

Then I stormed out. I just left. But not before Roma spilled her drink all over my couture.

Much Love,

Ginny

Top Ten Bad Things About Birthday Parties

1. They celebrate getting older, fun when you're eight…

2. Everyone thinks they're invited and that their invite just got lost in the owls.

3. You can't serve liquor because there are you're 7th cousins there that are underage.

4. Gives your friends a few hours to squeeze in as much embarrassment as they can.

5. Your dress always ends up ruined.

6. You have to wax your legs…even if you're single.

7. You could have a heart attack from the high tension from your mother and great aunt twice removed in the same room.

8. You have to eat birthday cake…in a 500 galleon dress.

9. You have to help clean up.

10. It's just a bloody pain in the arse!


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