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              [Insert girl profiles here]
 
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
 





              » LET'S MAKE A DATE! Date.

              » Y0U G0T THE TiME? Time.

              » STATE Y0UR POSiTi0NS! Where everyone is.

              » S0, WHAT'S THE PLAN? What's happening today.

              » BUSY T0M0RR0W? Plans for the next day, PM me for idea.
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
___________
XXX www.blogitbad.com/
XXXXXXDUKEofPAiN



                                  m a r t i n __ a r t h u r __ d u k e
                                  t h e __ b a d a s s
                                  e i g h t __ t e e n
                                  d u k e __ m a r t y


                                  ___________


                                  Martin, what the hell kind of name is that? I'll tell you; a damn sissy name. I hate it, every time some substitute teacher calls me by it, I feel like breaking my desk in two. So please, call me Duke. Wait, scratch that, call me Duke or I'll rip your head off. Yeah, that's more like it. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I'm not the most polite person around. Actually, you could say I'm probably the least polite person attending Sutton Academy. And I've got the reputation to back it up. I've reportedly been in about thirty-six physical fights on and off campus since I started high school. But they weren't all at Sutton, if they had been then I'd be long gone by now. I've been to three different schools in the last four years, all in this same area of California, since my family has always lived in Sutton. First was this run-of-the-mill Christian school and then an all boys prep school. Obviously they both sucked, I mean, praying, uniforms, no girls? It had to stop. I suppose you're wondering why I just don't give up on school, well, frankly, I'm just too proud to get the label 'high school dropout' attached to me for the rest of my life.

                                  I have a dad, a stepmom and three half-sisters in my family, my immediate one, anyway. Apparently my mum died when I was like two from pneumonia, it's alright, because I don't really remember her, I mean, it's not like thats the reason I'm so rebellious, sometimes people can just be born this way. Anyway, my home life's not that bad, we're a middle-class sort of bunch, the modest kind. My stepmom's pretty nice, works at a bakery. My only problem with her is that she calls me Marty. So much that it's become a common nickname among my family and it drives me insane! My sisters are alright, but they're still the most annoying forces on the planet, and they do it on purpose. Once they put make up on me overnight, and that began this huge prank battle, it eventually ended when the toilet exploded, though. They're all gonna make some guys very happy later in life.

                                  Anyway, more on my 'bad a**' rep. On a daily basis, I tend to act very, very cold. This is to everyone, too; my dad, my stepmom, my sisters, teachers, elders, the girls at school that I don't consider hot. Not only that, but I tend to get into a LOT of arguments with other guys, you know, the kind that end up being huge fights that get you (or me) suspended for a good week. I'm also pretty cranky all the time, and I refuse to obey rules at school when somebody recites them for me. But, believe it or not, I'm not ALL bad. Seriously. I do have a pretty good sense of humor, with friends anyway, and I don't think I could ever harm a girl, well, not physically. You do not lay a hand on a woman, unless she lets you, because then it probably means that you'll get some. That's another thing, like with most guys, girls are my weakness. Especially the elite ones, they're gorgeous and the flaunt it, problem is most of them are either vindictive or dumb as rocks. That's why at the moment I've been developing a thing for this one tomboy chick, MC. She's great fun at one on one basketball. Of course, NOW there's this new girl that I'm getting pretty attached, I met her online.

                                  You see, I like dares, and one of my buddies thought it would be great to get me to sign up for this blog site. I thought he was an idiot for giving me such an easy task, but I didn't know the sight was so addictive. I got really popular on it, almost overnight and while scoping out the competition, I met a few chicks that I really like talking to. The one I mentioned earlier, n e l l i e C U A T R O C I N C O U N O, she's really smart and I love talking to her, I'm thinking of asking if she wants to meet up, but there's one problem. This other girl, McJockette, she's great and all, but I just don't enjoy talking with her like I do the first one, thing is, she wants to meet up. I don't think I can tell her I don't want to, but she's really eager, and I'm not into her like that. My name on there's DUKEofPAiN, just came to me really, you know. My name's Duke, I induce pain; just a pun, really.


X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XDUKEofPAiN__ h a s __ s i g n e d __ o n .
 
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
 
aloha baby , it`s נαѕмιиє σℓινια нαѕтιиgѕ



            ✖ нεαя ωε gσ ✖


                      • everyone says jasmine hastings
                      • but i say jazz, jazzy, minnie (rarely jasmine) fit better.
                      december ninth should be a holiday
                      • these seventeen years have been very difficult however.
                      • obviously, i am a barbie girl
                      • considering my infatuation with g.i. joes
                      • i think i am as straight as straight can be



                        ✖ ση αη∂ 域 ✖
• Miss Seventeen is my very best friend, despite the fact that we're so different from each other.
• I'm not really into books, I only joined for my bestie, but coffee's good.
• And it's especially good when served by that hottie waiter that works at the Book Nook. Yum yum!
• Christmas is clearly the 'most wonderful time of the year'. I have lots of younger cousins, and it's so great watching them rip open their presents from 'Santa'. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
• School? As if, I hate that place. Necessary evil, though. I think, maybe I'll just be a hairdresser, I don't need a lot of money in life. Just a little mula teamed with some wicked hairdo will get me by.
• I'm adopted, but it's no big deal, my mom and dad got me when I was only a little baby (my real mom was a teen, apparently). I don't have siblings though, because my adoptive parents are infertile or something.
• I love that fake little rush you get when you're on rollercoasters and stuff, so I try to go to carnivals at any waking chance.
• Shopping is the best thing ever invented. I have to say I'm quite happy about thrift stores, otherwise my impulse buying would have driven me to an abyss of no money.
• My favorite thing right now is cool-shaped sunglasses. Like those ones in Kanye West's 'Stronger' video.
• I love love love music! All kinds, as long as you can dance to it.
• Partying is one of my most favorite pastimes and I usually drag my bestie alone with me whenever she's got her guard down.
• I'm not known as a heart breaker, actually I get mine broken quite often. If you can call it that. Long relationships are not my thing.
• Boys, boys, boys; where would I be without them? Of course, it's always hoes before bros...wait, maybe I should thing up a better metaphor.
• My guilty pleasure is watching those old, black and white love stories. I hate it though, so I don't tell anyone, a part from my best friend
• Living in New York is like a dream, everywhere is just a quick walk away.
• Fruit and veggies? Are you crazy!? I have a major sweet tooth, thankfully my metabolism is quick to fix my mistakes.
• Bleh, I hate models. And by that I mean I'm totally jealous of them. Long legs, great bodies, who wouldn't want that?
• I'm a total camera whore, and I've always got my trusty digital cam with me at all times. Never know when there's going to be a hot guy around and you'll want to remember him.
• When I'm mad, everyone knows. I start yelling and screaming and throwing things. Thank goodness for my pitiful throwing arm.
• I need glasses, but I refuse to wear the damn things whenever I don't definitely need them. See, I'm short-sighted, and so I wear them when driving, but not in class when I can't see the board.
• I had a wack at playing the guitar once, my lack of commitment to extra-curricular activities eventually won over and now it's sitting in the back of my closet, gathering dust and whatnot.
• I really love kids, and I think I want my own someday, provided I find somebody that I can actually stay with long enough.
• My extended family's always calling me in for babysitting.
• I'm lazy, and I hate housework. The most I'll do is vacuum and then the dishes. But that's IT.
• Me and my parents live in this gorgeous terrace, it's kind of small, but it's so cozy and cute!
• I have a job, believe it or not. Nothing big though, I just
• I'm really not scared of being a little crazy. I mean, aren't we all just a little psycho underneath our surfaces?
• One day, I'd really like to travel to somewhere like Japan, they have the coolest stuff over there. But, on a hairdressers salary...I'll have to marry rich.
• I have a cat, her name's Fairy. Although, she's really bad tempered, and I'm thinking I should have named her something a little less...cute. Hilarious, though, because she's big and fluffy, quite funny when somebody doesn't know about her catty personality.
• Exercise is probably my worst enemy. I can't run, or do a sit up or anything. Thank God I pretty much walk everywhere in this city or I'd be some fatty by now.




            ✖ γσυ ѕεε ✖


                      I'll have you know that my hair wasn't always this shade of blonde. It wasn't actually blonde, really. A few years back, about fifteen, I got bored with my naturally mousy brown colored hair and went nutz with hair dye. I swear, I dyed it any color you could possibly think of; purple, blue, orange, yellow, green, black, even this silvery color. Not only that, but I went through a major scene wannabe phase and had multicolored coontails all over the place. Fun times. Anyway, 'bout half a year ago I decided I would got for a more mature look, entering adulthood and all, so I kept this awesome blonde look and I've only barely changed it since. There is one blue and blonde coon tail in one of the front layers. What? I needed a little fun.

                      I'm around 5"5', not very tall at all really, but that's OK; good things come in small packages. Along with that small stature, I'm around a hundred and fifteen pounds, it wavers thought thanks to my love of junk foods. I'm pretty skinny, but also kind of soft. Like I said, I'm not one for the gym.

                      My eyes are always covered with a pair of shades, this is because I stay up a lot of nights and I'm ashamed of the bags there. They aren't that bad, but when I couldn't completely cover them with concealer I got worried. Anyway, my eye color is hazel, a mixture between dark green and chestnut brown. Sometimes the just look brown, but that's just because of changing in lighting. My skin is soft, but I use a whole lot of moisturizer, I don't have acne problems, just those annoying little creepers every so often. Only problem with my skin, really, is that once I got really drunk and got a tattoo on my back. It says something in Japanese, and I don't exactly know what, so I cover it up a lot. Just incase it's dirty.

                      I wear a lot of vintage-looking stuff, thanks to my attachment to charity, thrift shops. Vests, big blazers, faux leather boots; all the stuff I love. At the same time though, I add a lot of color to them, say I'm wearing a brown blazer, I'll probably wear a bright pink t-shirt underneath.




            ✖ γσυ нεαя ✖


                      Unless you've already noticed, I feel the need to mention that I'm suuuuper bubbly and always pepped up. Even when I haven't consumed sugar. My mom says I'm just some walking ball of energy. I have to say, I do agree with her. I've got, like, borderline insomnia because I can only ever fall asleep a few hours before I need to wake up. It's horrible, but, at the same time, I've never handed an assignment in late, even if it is pretty crap because I've done it all the night before. I'm obviously boy crazy, and I'm constantly scamming on the hot ones. You know, making flirty eyes, biting my lips. I'm so childish. I am pretty flirty, too, and I've gotten many a number from long shopping days.

                      I know my personality as a lot of awesome sides to it, but I have to admit, I'm a real airhead. I mean, once when I was watching Dracula, I asked dad why he wasn't purple, you know, like the guy off Sesame street. He started laughing like somebody was tickling him with a feather. You see, I have a certain level of intelligence, I'm kinda street smart, kinda. But every so often I say something soooo stupid that people around me just can't help but crack up and start rolling around all over the place. It's not that bad, because people don't consider me as a 'dumb blonde' type.

                      Anyway, I'm really devoted to my friends, and quite often my intentions are good, but my ideas have a tendancy to just mess up. Like this once when I was trying to hook my best friend up with this super cute genius guy at a party, and I accidently read the invite wrong so we went to an inconveniently far away place and the guy ended up getting pissed and saying he'd never do me a favor again. Hmm.



                        ✖ ℓσνεℓу ✖

• i am the resident best friend
• of course, i'm meant to be with the waiter
• color me mediumpurple


oh, and by the way
fallenP0TAT0E__xx
is hawt
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
tigerlily jane crawford




                              you better call me lily
                              this sinner loves its envy
                              a proud reincarnation for seventeen years
                              i can't help it if i'm the gossip
                              but it's okay, 'cause fallenP0TAT0E__xx loves me the same.


                              Oh God, please, if you're going to talk to me, I beg that you call me Lily and NOT Tigerlily. At the point of my birth (I'm the oldest child) I guess my parents must have been all hopped up on drugs or something, yeah, they used to be in that whole hippy poser sort of thing. Either way, I'm a mistake, but they referred to it as a 'surprise' gift from God. Anyway, they're all corporate clones now, like most adults these days. I've got a brother and two sisters, and they came in that order. My brother's about two years younger than me, but we aren't really chummy, he's disgusting and a total idiot for crying out loud. My sisters are fine, but they're still pretty young to talk to about stuff, like gossip. Wait, speaking of gossip, has anyone bothered to tell you not to tell me anything, yet? Yeah, I get it a lot, I can't make a lot of new friends because of it, too. But, really, most people don't have a big problem, as long as I don't think they're any better than me. I guess you can say that Envy is the root of my gossipping; I see a girl who has everything, I make it my business to either dig up her deepest, darkest secret or make up something totally ridiculous and spread it around. I know, it's bad, but, I can't help that I'm jealous. It's like my birth right.

                              Anyway, other than that crippling and horrible personality trait, I'm still not all that fantastic. I'm cynical, judgemental and sarcastic, but I'm pretty sure my only bitchy quality may be the gossipping. My big target is Miss Queen Bee, why? Well, because she's got, like, everything, from the point of view of everyone that lives in this town (it's not exactly thriving with millionaires). She's my main target, but I make sure that she doesn't know it, and treat her as if she was my best friend ever. She's not though, because I can barely even stand her. But, I know if I wasn't her friend then I'd probably have to eat lunch with the less popular people at our school. Which would be a nightmare without the cliques, considering I only know the ones that I spread rumors about. It's not that I want to be Queen Bee, I mean, people see me as bad enough already. I just want my best friend to suffer a little for the stuff she takes for granted.

                              I guess, overall, I have no real love life. I'm not promiscuous, and I tend to discourage guys with my initial attitude (i.e. cynical and cold). What people don't understand is that, that is just how I make a first impression, and I'd be damned if I'm going to change myself just because somebody doesn't like me. I run the freaking gossip mill, I think I've gotten over the fact that some people may not really take a shine to me. Anyway, it's not that I want to scare people away or anything, unless I'm jealous of them, of course. But, jeez, do people these days have to be so peppy and excited and just damn irritating?
 
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
 


MARGARET GRACE CHARLES

margaret grace charles


AGE;;TWENTY-ONE
COLORS;;PLUM
NiCKS;;MAGGiE
YEARS;;TWENTY-ONE
iLY;;MR. CHARLES
CRUSH;;MR. SCOTT
PUPPET MASTER;; fallenP0TAT0E__xx




                                      Now, don't look at that picture and go thinking that I'm some awesome, hot designer chick that gets to go to cool parties and sell thousand dollar clothes to superstars, that picture was taken at some awards night I went to with my future husband at the time. Back when we had dates, that is. Anyway, I'll get to that part later, first I'll brief you on my life so far. Oh, and please, call me Maggie, I hate the name Margaret. Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, New York in a pretty safe neighborhood, you know, lots of kids, cute terraces. I wasn't really exposed to the seedy side of NYC until about eighteen when I moved out of my regular neighborhood and into this area with a lot more of a city feel to it. Despite that, I'm still super naive over things, and I'm fooled easily. Anyway, ever since I was about eight I've wanted to design clothes. And ever since I was sixteen I've wanted to design high fashion clothes, like the ones you see on runways all over the world. Problem is that nobody wants to buy from a nobody designer, even if my dresses rock (see the pic for one of them, duh!).

                                      Anyway, I've got this teeny-tiny design business in New York where anybody can just walk in and take a look at my portfolios. Once, by a total stroke of luck (I guess, since he wanted to use the bathroom) the so called manager of this huge NFL team (look, I'm not that interest in football, OK) walks in. He whizzed and all that, but after got distracted by one of my uniform portfolios. It was amazing, he offered me five thousand dollars to design the uniforms for his team and I nearly died on the spot. Of course, the money didn't last that long, I mean, I live in New York for goodness sake, my apartment and the renting of my business used it all p in about three months. But, the most amazing thing ever happened; I met the man of my dreams. He was a player on the team, and we got to talk a lot while I measured him for the uniforms and stuff. Anyway, we fell in love and got married. It should have been 'happily ever after', right?

                                      Wrong. While we were dating, it seemed like we were spending heaps of time together, but when we got married it's like it all disappeared. I mean, we couldn't even have a honeymoon soon after, like most people do, because he was always busy with the NFL and I was always working on clothes and whatnot. I was still in love with him though, and in an attempt to spend more time with him I organized our honeymoon, for Paris, France. Thing is, that back in New York, there's some big designer sueing me for stealing one of her designs. I have no idea what's on with her, and I think she may have just done it because she saw my shop and she's tryign to wipe out as much competition possible. Anyway, I need to prepare for the case for when I return so I got this lawyer who's helping me. Surprisingly he's American, and while we've been working together I've been falling for him. I know it's wrong, but I can't help it, especially when my own husband keeps blowing off our romantic dinners.
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------DUKEofPAiN
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------date friday, may eighth
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------time 4:52 PM
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------mood pissed off
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------listening to trashed and scattered - avenged sevenfold


                                                  Hey stalkers, it's your favorite Duke online. As always I'm going to keep this crap short,

                                                  First of all, I got home extra early from boxing training today. I feel the need to explain to you why. You see, me and my buds were just fooling around this time, it's Friday and we couldn't be bothered to obey the coach. Next thing I know, this a*****e, let's call him Jenkins, comes up to me for a fight. Now, like I said, I was really sick of the school week at this point, so I ignored him. He kept bugging me so a friend told, no dared me to sock him one, right in the face. And you know I can't resist a dare. You see, the problem here was that I wasn't exactly wearing gloves at the time, and I couldn't even pretend like I'd punched just a little too hard. My coach suspended me from Boxing for a month because I broke Jenkin's nose. I was pissed, and I still am, but it'll all be totally worth it when Jenkins comes to school on Monday with a bandaged nose.

                                                  Anyway, I promised this would be short. And I never break my promises. Well, at least not to you guys. I'll talk with post later...actually, make that tomorrow. I've got a party to go to tonight, and you know a chivalrous guy like me wouldn't pass up the chance to invite a girl over afterwards for a little conversation. Ooh, I'm feeling happier already.


                                                  DUKE


                                    Duke pressed the send button finally, it had taken him WAY too long to write that puny excuse for a blog entry, but he didn't care, to be honest. None of his entries were really (or even moderately) long, at least not compared to his competition. But Duke just guessed that his bad boy charm had gotten him the hundreds of comments and fans. Duke was sure that if he posted a picture of himself he'd be on top, but he really didn't want to run the risk (no matter how minimal it was) of being found online by somebody that knew him in reality. That would completely kill his badass image, well, if not kill, injure badly enough for him to have to get kicked out again to gain back, and Sutton was quickly running out of high schools that would dare take the boy. For a few minutes, Duke stared at the screen, thinking about what the hell he was supposed to do next. He really didn't want to write another entry, because he just wasn't in the mood after boxing, and he couldn't really go anywhere because he wasn't allowed in a lot of hang outs these days. Duke sighed and grabbed a carton of cigarettes from his hoody pocket, pulling one of the cancer sticks out and lighting it with a nearby lighter that had been sitting on the computer desk.

                                    He smoked for a minute or two before one of his sisters, the middle one, walked in, catching him with the burning cigarette in his hand. "Marty! Mommy said you couldn't smoke in the house! I'm telling!" Duke wasn't initially afraid of the ten year old seeing him smoke, until his little sister threatened to involve his stepmother, which would end up involving his father, which could potentially destroy his chances of, well, doing or using anything that involved his dad's property. And Duke was really gunning for that sweet, one bedroom apartment downtown his dad had previously promised him for his eighteenth birthday. "No, Olivia, don't. Here, I'll give you some money..." Duke said, fiddling inside his pockets until he located his wallet and pulled out a twenty. It was the only way to deal with her nowadays, when there really wasn't anything to blackmail her with like the other two; his youngest sister, Jenny, was in love with her barbie dolls, and Duke was not above chopping their heads off; and the oldest, Linda, she kept a diary, 'nuff said. Olivia seemed to think deeply about the offer before she ran straight up to the money, snatched it from Duke's hands and sprinted out of his bedroom. Duke found her actions suspicious, so he quickly shut his bedroom door, hid the cigs, and opened the window to get the smell out before his stepmom got a chance to take a whiff.

                                    When Duke was done he sat back down into his black swivel chair, staring at his blog again until he saw a few friends of his log onto instant messenger. It wasn't anyone that could possibly convince him to log on himself, but it did give him an idea. He flicked through a few webpages until he made it to n e l l i e C U A T R O C I N C O U N O's blog, he read through a few of her entries, just to check if any were new. None were, at least not since this morning, and he decided to write her a quick comment on her page, to test if she paid attention to that stuff. Personally, Duke had grown tired of reading all of his comments, because they mostly just stuff like 'OMG I love you' or 'you sound really hot, wb', and he never wrote back anyway, he was too much of an a*****e to do that. Duke opened up the comment window and started a quick message to her.

                                    ------hey nellie
                                    -----feel like chattin' to your old pal duke today?
                                    -----i got to ask you something
                                    -----don't ignore this, babe


                                    Duke sent it, it was just like him; short, sweet and to the point, hey, he hated commenting on other people's webpages, it made him wonder why the hell he couldn't just message her. But, oh well, maybe they could make a few bitches jealous by having a quick, public conversation. Duke returned to his own page and sat back in his chair, dammit he really needed a smoke at the moment, he was completely bored, and had no real way to vent the anger he'd gained from boxing practice. Crap.
 
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"


missx[jolie]x sinclair
t h e xo m o d e s t xo && xo o v e r s h a d o w e d xo s i s t e r xo
xoxo xo

                                  Hey, I'm Jolie, and I bet you've never heard of me before. It's OK, I'm pretty sure if anyone does know me, it's through my sister. You may know her, she's considered the queen bee of Radford high, and people pretty much worship the ground she walks on. Even me, if she forces me to do it. See, before high school I wasn't afraid to tell my sister to get lost whenever she wanted me to treat her like a goddess, but now she's got the power to totally ruin my life, and so I obey every little demand she gives me; from blowing on her nails to flirting with someone. Why do I bother, you ask? Well, In case you haven't already figured it out, I really want to come out from underneath my sister's gigantic shadow, I want to make my own name for myself, without people adding on a 'Ooh, as in the queen bee's little sister?'. I can't do that if she hates me, she'll totally get all of her upperclassmen friends on me. At the moment though, we've got a relatively mutual aquaitence going, especially now that we've actually found something in common; we both hate those cocky, new Freshmen.

                                  Now, I'm really kind to just about everybody, and for about a week I risked my social career by trying to help those midgets out. You know, telling them what bathrooms to avoid if they hated the crisp smell of cigarettes, and directing them to what rooms they were in. But those little jerks were so confident in their own abilities that they just blew me off and walked around like they owned the place. It was enough to make me want to throw up. I mean, my sister said that there's usually a few people in the freshmen crowd that don't obey the rules, there were even a couple when I got here. But, this time aroudn it was ridiculous, ALL of them are opposing to the status quo and it's ridiculous. Had I not gone through the whole ordeal of becoming a freshman myself (seriously, then, my sister was no help at all) I probably wouldn't have cared too much, but, it's not fair that they can skip all the tortue just because they think they should be running the scene. I mean, aren't the perks supposed to come as you get older? Not the other way around.

                                  Between hating on freshman and enduring my sister's every word, you could say my lifes a lot more privelaged than others. Just because my parents are super rich, but, then again, a lot of parents are around this town. Anyway, since I started sohpmore year, school's been a lot easier, for one thing, the juniors actually acknowledge me these days, which is great, because it means I must be doing something right. Not to mention I've moved my grade point average up to 3.8 since the fear of the next school day no longer consumes me and I can comfortably do homework now. My love life, however. Non existent. Only because, these days my sister is trying to prevent me from becoming unpopular, for her sake, not mine. She doesn't want to be related to a dork, I guess. Anyway, she tells me now that if a guy asks me out, I need to consult her first. So far, a few have asked me, but I am not going to consult her, nor am I going behind her back, and saying yes to any of them. So, I guess a boyfriend's kind of out of the question. It doesn't take a genius, but, I'm still a virgin, and it's not that I haven't had chances before, it's just that I don't want to surrender my virtue to some idiot.
 
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
 




------------------miss jolie sinclair
----------------------RADFORD HiGH'S CLOSET PRiNCESS
--------------------------READY TO ESCAPE HER SiSTER'S SHADOW
------------------------------iF ONLY SHE KNEW HOW









                  Jolie Sinclair sneered at a few passing freshmen as they purosely pushed past her. She had been minding her own business, returning her 11th grade calculus text books to her locker and grabbing the granola bar she'd brought for lunch that day, when a pair of arrogant freshmen bumped into her. It caused pretty much no damage, it didn't even push her into her locker slightly, but Jolie knew that they had wanted it to make a scene. Scowling was all she could really do to them at the moment, a plan for ultimate doom didn't come easy, and Jolie needd more than just herself to work on such a thing. Besides, she was about five feet, three and half inches, and she didn't exactly have the most intimidating appearance. The freshmen that had wronged her just passed by with a giggle and went on their merry way to go annoy the crap out of some other students; most likely the juniors and seniors. Jolie slammed her locker when she was finished and slipped the granola bar into her bright pink, Marc Jacobs handbag.

                  Jolie hardly ever ate the lunch from the cafeteria, she didn't really trust the hygeine quality; it didn't matter that this school was one of the most expensive, reputable educational facilities in the area, Jolie didn't trust the look of those lunch ladies. Sure, she had spoken with them before, and they were all pretty nice, but seriously; did they own a mirror? The women always had loose strands poking out of their hair nets, and their gloves were disgusting. If Jolie wanted to get food poisoning, she'd eat out of the garbage. Jolie made her way trough towards the eating halls of the school building. It was the designated area for all the sophomores, and while it was much, much better than eating on the ground like she'd done the year before, it was still horrible having to move through all the other bodies of students to get to a table, and this was on every single floor.

                  Jolie could hardly be bothered to walk all the way up to the fourth floor, which usually did have more free tables, and a little less crowd to move through. But, she was way too tired, and she could spot a free table from where she was. Jolie walked towards it, silently claiming it as a few others were trying to get to it. Jolie didn't want to seem like a b***h, table-snatcher or anything, so she looked towards the others with a smile; really, it was a big enough table, and since they were sophomores like herself, and not some cocky freshmen, it didn't bother her. The other two girls sat down opposite to Jolie at the table, going on with their own conversation as she pulled her phone out of her handbag and started a text to her best friend, Lucy, the school council secretary. The two had met last year, and got along great, probably because they both had legendary siblings in senior class. The only difference was that Lucy's was a brother, and he was super hot.

                  hey miss secretary
                  are we eating in sophomore territory today?
                  or can your big bro get us up on stage?
                  i'm pretty sure my sis would be reluctant about it
                  <3 jolie


                  Jolie closed the phone and placed it on the table, waiting for the buzz that would be totally welcomed as Jolie was beginning to feel like a real loner at the moment. Jolie had eaten on the senior stage a couple times this year, thanks to Lucy's brother, and didn't exactly think her sister would ever exclusively invite her over. Even if they had been getting along lately, she couldn't really see Anna doing that.
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"

" EASY, iNSECURE UNDERSTUDY "
g a b r i e l l a xxx j o a n xxx h a r p e r

f a c t o i d s

                                                      but it's : bree, gab, el
                                                      aged at : nineteen
                                                      favorite color : yellowgreen
                                                      puppeteer : fallenP0TAT0E__xx


                              OK, so I never really anticipated for the day I chose to go shopping for new underwear, to end up as the day I was cast as Sydney Randall on The Mystery at Sunny Acres, well, sort of. See, at the time when I got the call, I was jumping around like crazy, thinking that maybe the actress I was understudy for, Tammy Combs, was just quitting the show or something. I didn't find out that she'd been murdered until I turned up for rehearsal's the next week. Everybody (well, except maybe that one lighting guy) looked at me like I was the murderer. Now, before you get any ideas, I did NOT murder Tammy Combs, I've never murdered anyone. I don't even think I could harm someone. Even if I wanted to. But, I can't call it quits, this is just way too important for me right now. Umm, can you say 'struggling actress' yeah. I know I'm only playing flashbacks, and I don't get paid as much as the other actors, but I still need this money, and I am going to put up with people calling me the 'fake' Sydney Randall. It is super scary, though, the idea of someone probably close to us being a psychosis-driven, homicidal lunatic.

                              Well, I suppose I should probably say a little about myself. I beg of you to call me by my real name, and not the one about being the fake Sydney Randall. It's Gabriella, by the way, but I accept Bree, Gab, and El; they each shorten my annoyingly long name, I mean, four syllables? What were my parents thinking? Speaking of my parents, I didn't grow up with the both of them, they divorced soon after I was born, I guess they thought that a child would bring them closer, but really, it just got them fighting harder. They got married at a super young age, by the way. Anyway, I lived with my mom, mostly, because my dad traveled a lot (he's in the army). But it wasn't forced, I really enjoyed spending a lot of time with my mom when I was a kid. Sadly, I may have picked up on a few of her, uhh, lesser quality points. Now, my mom is a great woman; she's smart, kind to strangers and she raised me exceptionally well without anyone helping her. Thing is, she got super attached in relationships, really quickly. I mean, let's say she started dating a guy one day; there'd be a very loud banging against my wall that very same night. Soon, I understood it, and now I realize I may have picked it up. Not necessarily the attachment part, but I'm kind of quick to put out in relationships. I guess you could say I'm easy. It's not that I'm a slut, I'd never sleep with a guy I wasn't dating.

                              Besides that one, shining example of a personality point, I am a pretty decent person. I try hard to be as kind as I can to people I just met, and I guess you could say I'm sort of modest. Smart, though? I'm average, you know. Not exactly valedictorian, but not exactly the school bimbo, either. I'm really insecure, though. See, I don't really have a lot of confidence these days, thanks to all the people that think I'm a psycho murderer. I don't talk to anybody, really, except maybe Mr. Socially - Awkward, Nice Guy. He's the only one I feel I can vent my feelings to, and between you and me, I have a tiny (or huge) thing for him. But, Hollywood romances never work out, so I can't say I'm exactly pursuing such a relationship. Everybody's been saying that we've got some secret love affair going on, which is about the only rumor I feel comfortable giggling at.

                              Anyway, I got the part as Tammy's understudy a long while back, when the show started, and I'd been coming to the studio every few weeks, whenever there was a new script. The director wanted to keep me updated just in case Tammy got sick or something. Before I got the part, I was doing what all great, struggling actresses do; I was waitressing at a restaurant where they made their employees dress up in costume. I'm not joking; it had a new theme every week. Of course, it was on a cycle, so I guess it only really had a few themes. I'm still sort of there, just in case the acting falls through, I don't want to have to go job scouting again.
 
     
"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"
 
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--------------------------s o m e o n e ' s -s e e i n g- g r e e n
--------------------------o h , -r i g h t ,- i t ' s -m e



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"Holy inferiority complex, Batman!
How low is my self esteem that I'm the sidekick in my own fantasy?"