France:

We had dinner again last night, but it was everyone at this one: she, my friend, her brother, and me. My friend cooked, which was great, since it's usually me stuck with the kitchen work. It's her birthday tomorrow, and we're having one big dinner and she insisted that everyone order out and we'll have breakfast for dinner, like she loves. I have to think of some sort of gift soon!

The party tomorrow is for a lot of people, including my own brother and his best friend, the only man in the world I would like to gag with a spoon. I'll deal with him, but I swear if he talks to me he's getting a mouthful of waffles. And my brother should behave himself too; he can be such an ignorant dunce sometimes.

Otherwise, dinner went well, although I'm pretty sure my brother's friend's eye won't heal soon. I'm still working on my drawing for tomorrow night, I had to borrow paints and everything, but it's such a great portrait of her, better than anyone else could have done. I still have art in my family, you know!


France:

She said it was cute.

Cute.

Which means she likes it, but no more than someone would like a kitten. A really cute kitten, but it doesn't matter, because nothing I do seems to be working. The picture is probably sitting on her bedroom floor, gathering dust. Back when I was small, people always called me "cute" and they always wanted something. Damn it, I'm always being targeted by everyone!

Her birthday passed already, and still nothing happened between us. I'm beginning to think that you're just raking in the audience's money and not helping us at all—jackass! How difficult is it to instruct someone on how to pick up a girl?

I'm trying again later. I'd rather not be set up for rejection.