A/N: Just a look into the mind of a very random girl...

Sunday May 4, 7:18 PM

Okay honestly. Am I the only person who ever feels like I'm walking around in a really bad teen movie? Prom
was last night. Charlie came over to pick me up and waited downstairs, being interrogated by my 10 year old brother. I
had promised Kent he could scare Charlie. Yeah I don't know.
Anyway, I was finally ready so I called downstairs that I was coming down. As I walked down the stairs (in
that damn hot red number that cost me as much as a small island), I caught a glimpse of Charlie waiting for me at the
bottom. It was a real "She's All That" moment...minus the cheesy song in the background. And that whole tripping and
falling on my ass thing. But still. It was a bad movie.
Not to mention the dance itself. I ask you, why couldn't my entire school get together before the prom and
choreograph a totally awesome dance to bust out when one particular song comes on? WHY?! I still maintain that I
have not truly lived considering I have not taken part in something like that. Charlie thought I was crazy. Bah. Crazy.
You know what's crazy?
My whole class, all 591 of them, (AND their dates in fact) NOT learning how to dance flawlessly in unison.
THAT, my friends, is the crazy thing.


May 5, 10:45 AM

Okay that's it. My mother has officially jumped off the deep end. Again.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. We all know her most famous moment of weirdness. That would be when 18 years ago,
she popped me out and decided to name me Gwen. Gwen Flynn. Don't even get me started on that particular acid trip
of hers. And I KNOW it was acid. That's the only explanation.
But I digress. You know what she did? She accepted a date. I know what you're thinking. What's so
horrible? She and my dad have been divorced since before I was born. Heck, he sets her up with men all the time. Oh,
if only it were that simple. It's not the fact that she's going out with someone. It's the someone. Take a guess who will
be sweeping her off her feet next Friday? Well, if you guessed Mr. Vines, you'd be right.
My mother is going on a date with my boyfriend's father.


What's going to happen if they get married? I can't date my brother. We'll have to move to Kentucky if we get
married. And we'll have six kids with webbed feet with names like Bubba and Mary-Sue and Jim-Bob.
Am I the only one who sees where this whole dating thing is going to end up? HONESTLY!

2:32 PM

I don't want my kids to have webbed feet.

2:41 PM

Will we move to Kentucky? Or is it Arkansas?
Yeah Gwen. THAT is the thing to be worrying about. Focus. Operation: Ruin Date needs to get pulled off
right now.

2:46 PM

So yeah. Any bright ideas to contribute to Operation: Ruin Date? I've got nothing.

5:31 PM

I tried. Really I did. I was sitting at the kitchen table, avoiding the dreaded Calculus homework, and
contemplating not my future children's webbed feet, but the tails they would surely sprout by their third birthday, in
which Daddy and I would have to confess...
Getting ahead of myself. The kids won't be deformed. We're not blood related. Sure, they'll be emotionally
and psychologically SCARRED for the rest of their lives, but at least I can rest easy that my children will have no
webbed appendages or tails coming out their butts.
Anyway, I was sitting there when she wanders in, humming "I Feel Pretty."
Kill me? Please? Anyone?
She sits down, wearing her "I'm pretending to humor you and listen to why you don't want me to date but
you can't stop me so HAHAHAHAHAHA" face. I know that face well.
"Honey, why are you upset about me going on one date with Mark?" she asked.
"Uh, because I'm dating another member of that family maybe?"
"We're just dating, darling."
"I found the family first, Mom," I said patiently. "Back off. I call dibs on the Vines men."
She rolled her eyes and patted my head. She stood up.
"It'll be alright sweetheart. Maybe I won't even like him that much and you don't have to worry about dating
your stepbrother."
As she left, my head hit the Calculus book. No, I was not trying to soak in the information. I was sulking.
And try as I might, I just can't get the image of webbed feet and tails from flying around whenever I close my
Note to self: stop watching those bad talk shows that deal with trailer trash and inbreeding. VERY bad for my
current psychological state...