Author's note: I own it all. I'm totally Meg Cabot. Yeah, that's why I'm on a FAN fiction site instead of being, like, GOD! Oh, and I'm not Gwen Stefani, so I don't own these lyrics. And I did not write 'My Humps,' thank god.

I'm the kinda girl that hangs with the guys
Like a fly on the wall with my secret eyes
Takin it in, try to be feminine
With my makeup bag watchin all the sin

I walked into yet another party. It was my forth this week and I had no idea why. I hated this scene. The music was never good, just some unintelligible unintelligent rap guy. Or some girl degrading herself by singing about her tits and ass. 'Whatcha gonna do with all that breast inside that shirt?' I'm gonna leave.

David and I were both in Washington D.C at the moment, thanks to Thanksgiving.

"How was NYU?" He asked me this morning.

"Lovely. Princeton?"

"Same."

Then we had sex. I mean, we talk on the phone ALL the time. And he (hopefully) doesn't have a sex buddy at Princeton, and if you think I'm getting laid up at NYU, you sure as hell got another think coming, so we're…I always hated this word…horny.

Misfit, I sit
Lit up, wicked
Everybody else surrounded by the girls
With the tank tops and the flirty words

What the hell is horny and why does it sound like it would hurt?

Why can't they ever play good music at these stupid parties?

Why do we have to go to these? I shouldn't. I'll tell David. I'm not going. Although, he doesn't want to go to these either. He has to keep his appearances up on account of, you know, that whole wanting to be president one day.

Screw that.

I'm just sippin on chamomile
Watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in the face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school

"Hey, aren't you that Madison chick?" Some drunk WASP spilled his beer on my new army surplus boots. Great.

"Yeah."

"Didn't you save David's dad?"

This happens more then you'd expect. I can't live my hero moment.

I'm the one they feed upon
Give a bit a star is born
And if you're hot enough you'll get the pass
And you can tell your friends how you made it back

I wish I could disappear into thin air. Honestly, I'd rather be anywhere but here. Except, you know, Saudi Arabia or something. Or at Lucy's house. Since she's all hunky-dory-lovey-dovey with Jakey-Wakey.

Yeah, she's knocked up.

Preggers.

Bun in the oven.

Fat ankles.

No matter what they say I'm still the same
Somehow everybody knows my name
And all the girls wanna get with the boys
And the boys really like it

That's it. I can't take these over-privileged senator's daughters bumping and grinding against the young republicans.

That's the straw that breaks my back. I push through the crowd, looking for David's orange converse.

I find them amongst Dockers. "I'm leaving."

We bolt as fast as we can.

I'm just sippin on chamomile
Watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in the face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school