I'm sorry. You can virtually slap me now. I can't believe I haven't updated in like two and a half. I wrote like half of this the day after I posted last chap, then I got crazy writers block. Plus I've been insanely busy, I've been super stressed out with family stuff, and my computer's DVD player got messed up and we had the take it in. I hate this chapter. I need to get to the next chapter so some SERIOUS drama can happen. Oh, and I won't be updating my other stories for a while. I'm trying to finish this one and I have another project coming up.

"Ehmagawd! Ashy! I hate you!" The tall, brunette celebrity fake-flinched and Dylan lightly hit him.

"Come on! You gotta say it, girly!" A bright, dazzling smile floated on Ashton Kutcher's pink lips. I couldn't believe it. Aston Freaking Kutcher was in my presence. My God. My love. I had been in love with him since I was ten. And here I was, looking like I got ran over by a truck. A truck driven by a greasy, creepy old guy with a beer-belly.

Dylan turned to the camera, smiling. "I have been punk'd." Dylan shook her head, hiding her grin. Once the cameras turned off, she practically attacked Ashton.

"EH-MA-GAWD! I reached punk'd status! Ashton, I love you!" Her green eyes danced, and a wave of long, curly red hair the object of Dylan's love in the face.

"Hey, I got a wife," A teasing expression flitted across his face. "But, I'd be willing to make some expectations for you. Or, you." His head was turned toward me. Me. Ashton Kutcher was talking about me. I might've passed out again if Kristen hadn't rudely interrupted my moment of ecstasy.

"Wait, Dylan, you don't even have status. Is being Merri Lee Marvil's daughter really enough to be punk'd?"

"If it wasn't I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"So, uh, what exactly was the punk?" Dylan's voice echoed my thoughts.

"You really think your dad's last name is Cullen? When the writers suggested that, I almost died. But, they really went for it. I'm surprised you didn't pick up on it sooner," Ashton looked nearly empty room. "Well, I gotta go before my crew leaves without me."

"See ya later, Ashton. My mom would love to have you on her show." Dylan smiled sweetly until the door closed. "Well, Massie's gonna be disappointed she missed that."

"You think I wasn't in on it?" Massie brushed by Ashton, probably intentionally. "Why do you think I've been being such a bitch lately?" Massie raised an eyebrow at us. "Anyways, we have so much to talk about. I was think-" She was cut off by a large, fifty-something woman with greasy, wiry gray hair and darting brown eyes.

"Alicia Rivera?"

"What?" I rolled my eyes at the offending blue blob standing in front of me. Seriously, did doctors really have to wear scrubs?

"Uh, well, I'm not your doctor, but I'm here to tell you you've been discharged. Please leave immediately, we have another patient coming in. You're parents have already taken care of the paperwork." Dr. Greasy averted her twitchy eyes from me to her beeping pager. She sighed and looked back at me. "I'm sorry to push you out the door, but I have to." She pointed to her pager. "Oh, your parents mentioned you might want to see, uh, Josh Hottie?"

Ignoring her mistake, it was true, I lifted the itchy blanket and grabbed my Prada. "That's right. H-how is he?"

"He's doing surprisingly well. He lost a good amount of blood, and fractured his arm, but he will probably be discharged tomorrow," Dr. Greasy scratched the back of her neck and closed one eye, as if she was trying to remember something. "Oh, his room is number 222. Thank you, I hope your experience Bellevue Hospital (A/N, yes, it's in NYC, I'm just pretending they got airlifted or something to NYC.) at was enjoyable, have a nice day." She smiled wearily and strolled away.

"Since when is being at a hospital enjoyable?" I asked. "Anyways, I need to get to the nearest shower possible. I can't see Josh looking like, like, this," I said, gesturing to my oily hair.

"I already booked you a suite at some ridiculously chic five-star, fully stocked with Aveda, Glisten, and Chanel cosmetics. It's for seven nights, we're in New York, and what better way to feel better than to shop?" Massie smiled. She obviously had hated playing the frienemy part for the last week, and wanted to make it up.

"Mass, you're the best. I seriously cannot believe you took the-" Massie but her off.

"I already know how great I am, I don't need a speech about it. What I need it a six hour shopping spree. The sooner you cleanse, the sooner you can see Josh, the sooner we can go shopping."

I simply laughed and pushed the heavy door open.

After four raids on Starbucks, a visit to Josh, and a three-hour shopping spree, our limo finally pulled up to the hotel. Despite how short the shopping trip was, it was relatively successful. Each girl had a couple of new shirts, some jeans, and a few pairs of shoes peeking out of their bags.

"You know what we haven't done in a while?" Massie asked, the electric room key she was holding millimeters away from the lock.

"What?" The muttered, unexcited response displeased Massie.

"I'm not opening the door until I get an excited response."

"Please just tell us!" Kristen moaned.

Massie's lips twisted into a devious smirk. "Throw a party." As she slid the key in, and opened the door, each girl's jaw dropped.

Voila! Maybe not to good…but I think it's slightly longer then other chapters. I know this sucked, but that's what happens when it's written over the course of two months. I hope I still have fans…again, SO sorry for not updating!