Evan & Sasha & the Mysterious Lollipop

[elastics.]

Yeah, so if this story gets posted, I'll be more inclined to update it. So, yeah, I'm gonna repost my part and then Nicole can you post your part and then we alternate? And then it'll be so hardc0re! hahaha..yeah, so..on with it.

EDIT: weird, some of the blue colour doesn't change to the white..

----

I don't know. I hate this. I really do. When you're stuck and you can't think of anything. This...this block, well, more accurately "writers block", but pssh. I just...I just wish words were easier to flow, like in music.

I really love to just sit down at my keyboard or with my guitar – acoustic because I like how natural that is – and just let all the angst and fears melt away from the creation of a musical piece.

It’s the ultimate release.

I love writing, though. It helps me get through this. Words have this inexplicable power. They just...are.. It’s really weird, but oddly comforting.

I’m currently working on a novel I want to send to publishers about a girl who always puts on bright red lipstick because she has this kick ass shiny lip ring and she’s secretly a FBI agent who loves plates.

I’m in a rut now. I guess I should just leave it and come back to it later.

Yayy...it’s time for muzak!

I cuddled up against my guitar as I sat on my comfy bed.

Soft chords emerged into the air as I slowly let myself go.

I started singing quietly to myself.

Nobody knows
No..they don’t
They don’t know what I want
What I’ve been lamenting

MM, slow and steady rhythm. Beautiful.

I stared into the mirror to the left of me and studied my features.

My heavy black eyeliner was accented by my pale features.

I am such an emo.

No, really, I just like eyeliner. It’s totally gorgeous.

Heheh.

Brrrrrraaaaiiiinnnnnnggggggg..brrrrrraaaaiiinnnnnn nggggg.

Damn doorbell.

I hate answering doors. It’s usually some politician or charity person or my friends. Gack!

I shall not answer it. I’ll just read whatever flier they leave with laughter.

Brrrrraaaiiiinnnnngggggg, the doorbell persisted.

Why? Why? You evil doorbell! I want you to die!

I played one chord and then discarded my guitar in the middle of my bed.

Begrudged, I walked towards the door.

It was Sam. It’s not like I should’ve been surprised.

He played bass and loved licorice.

Also, he was socially inept; he didn’t know the appropriateness of things in certain situations.

For instance, right now it’s 11:30PM and he’s on my doorstep.

It’s cute, though.

I opened the door.

“Hey, Sam,” I welcomed, “what’s up?”
“Erm…Sasha...I need to ask you something.”
I raised my eyebrows, “really? Pray tell.”

Haha, he looked really cute. His mouth was scrunched up and he was shaking a tiny bit.

It was like he was asking a girl out.

Wait – is he.. – no. He can’t be…

I mean, Sam is nice and all, it’s just that I don’t see him in that way.

See, I have trouble with relationships. I always seem to sabotage even the best ones. It’s like I don’t think I’m good enough and I don’t see a reason why anyone would like me and when someone does show an interest in me I find that incredibly hard to believe so I tend to be in disbelief and do something crazy and he ends up hating me in disgust and I’m left in tears.

It’s this never-ending vicious cycle. And each time I try to break it...to be a different person I fall apart and lose any hope I had previously.

I love Sam as a friend and would never want that to happen to us.

Also, another bit that deserves mentioning is that I never am friends with my ex’s. As much as I loved them and he loved me, it’s just not there anymore and he doesn’t want anything to do with me.

After putting so much time into a relationship and having it end because of your stupid insecurities and not being able to manage a friendship is completely disheartening.

I wish I was someone different.

That’s why I have music and writing.

They’re my escape from my reality.

Not to say that I only care about boys because that’s not the case.

Surprisingly, my friendships are awesome and totally fulfilling.

It’s ironic when you think about it.

But Sam knows this. He wouldn’t ask something like this, would he?

Unless he’s trying to help me. That’d be awfully sweet of him.

“So… yeah. I have this drummer dude and a keyboardist and we starting jamming the other day and it was like whoa. And I know that you play guitar and your voice is completely stellar so...”

Is he asking me to be in his band?

I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve always thought of music as a very personal thing that you kept private unless you wanted to sell out and have groupies and such.

I just like being by myself and letting everything come out of me like sand sliding through an hourglass.

“I...I don’t know...well, erm…you know.”

“Please, Sash, we planned to have this show at Radiate Citrus tomorrow. Please.”

“Isn’t it rather stupid to plan a show before you even have a band?”

“Well, you know, I’m not good at planning things. I just really wanted to have a band and this opportunity came up. Pleasey-squeezy?”

Awww…his face was contorted into this impossible-to-resist cute smile.
Damn.

“Okay, I know the guitars, vocals and keyboards for my songs. I’ll go get them so that the keyboardist can learn the stuff and you can make up bass parts and drums,” I said with authority.

[elastics.]

Gahh, there wasn't enough room..

----

What did I just say? I mean...my songs ARE personal and to...I...I...I...

I scrambled up to my room and grabbed the sheet music quickly and went back to Sam.

“Here,” I said bluntly as I handed him the sheets of paper, “I’m kinda tired and need to go to bed, but I’ll meet you at your house at 10AM so we can put everything together. Okies?”
“That’s great! I love you, Sasha! You’re the best!”

He kissed me softly on the cheek and went down the porch steps, “see ya!”

He stumbled a bit – he had flat feet, hehe – but it was really cute.

I shut the door and fell down against it.

[maze]

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY! *cheers* I love this story! It is the most random story on the universe I say you guys send it to a publisher. HAHA!

[waitingxforxyou]

yayyyy

Evan

I strolled down the street. I sighed.

Sighing is a lot of fun. It’s like this huge breath and then you let it all out like “whoosh.” It makes me feel a cloud and an emo kid. Plus, people always give you a look and go, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I’m not emo and there is nothing wrong but I like the concern anyways.

I like clouds too. They hang in the sky like big, fluffy pillows. When I was a baby I had many big, fluffy pillows. Then I took them outside to make a fort and the neighbor’s kid ate it.

No, really, he did.

I think his name was Winston.

So now I don’t like people named Winston. So I’m sorry if your name is Winston. But any time I would talk to you I would think you had eaten my big, fluffy pillows and then I would be mad and hit you with a spoon.

I carry a spoon in my left pocket, by the way. Because sometimes I’ll buy a Sno Cone or yogurt and I don’t have a spoon to eat it with so I need one. I’m always prepared.

I sighed again.

I don’t know why I’m stressing about spoons and clouds. I guess it’s because now that I’m famous I don’t really get to think about things like that anymore.

Simplistic things, that is.

Now I have to worry about shit all the time like album covers, tours, deadlines, recording, and exploding toy ovens.

That’s why I like Wednesday mornings like these. For some reason, I never have anything to do on Wednesday mornings, so I like to be by myself and walk around.

I was in New York City. I wanted Starbuck’s.

I wanted it because they have pretty cups with this girl on it and she looks like a mermaid. When I see her I am inspired and I want to sing “Under the Sea.”

But I don’t. That would be weird and I’m not weird.

Sometimes I want to do her though…

I was walking to Starbuck’s and scuffing my Converses.

I like my Converses. I think they’re sexy. They’re black and have candy-cane laces in them. People always stare at them. They probably think they’re sexy too.

Anyways, I was walking to Starbuck’s when I tripped on a banana peel. Yes, a real banana peel. Like, who drops those in a street?! They’re not even funny!

The only thing they’re good for is potassium. And no, that’s not a band.

I stood up angrily. “That was not funny!” I shouted. “This isn’t Cartoon Network, people! Stupid los platanos!”

An old woman in a bright pink polyester suit walked by me and smacked me with her purse. It had buckles and hurt. She gave me a disgusted look and walked off.

Wow. That was like getting smacked in the face with Technicolor.

I’m not even mad!

I finally got to Starbuck’s and ordered a “Venti with whip nonfat green tea and blackberry frappucino, please, sir!”

That’s right, bitches. Word to yo’ mother ‘cause Evan Taubenfeld be in the Starbuck’s hizzouse.

There’s a reason why Def Jam records turned me down…

“Thank you, ma’am!” I chirped at the girl behind the counter.

She was Gothic with a pale face and dark lipstick. She works there a lot when she’s not off being a vampire. I affectionately refer to her as Death.

She glowered at me.

“I’m sorry Luci…fer.” I backed away as her eyes bore into me. I swear they were red.

Once outside in the fresh sunlight, I gratefully cradled my drink to my chest. I sang softly, “It’s good to be aliiiiive….”

It really was. And is.

I stared at the mermaid girl on the cup. She was so pretty, with that long, luxurious hair and her crown…so regal…

Once I’d had my fill of looking at her and my boner was safely down, I threw it away.

I don’t really like Starbuck’s. So overpriced.

I continued on my way to my record label office in the business district of New York, 42nd street, to be exact.

BROADWAY! I think if my music career ever ends I’ll go on BROADWAY. It’s just one of those words that requires capitals.

Like annoying girls on AIM who type lyk tHis b/c it’s like funee.

Wednesday morning is over. My break is over.

[waitingxforxyou]

I drag myself into the office. I gave half-hearted waves to everyone and kept my head down like a silly emo kid until I was safely in my office. I slumped into my desk chair.

I sighed.

But this time I sighed because something really is wrong. The truth is…

Well, it’s…

I really want a girlfriend. Like I really do.

The last girlfriend I had dumped me and stole my lamp. It was an expensive lamp too. It added such an aesthetic element to my living room. But she stole it! Maybe she thought it was a genie lamp.

I really want that lamp back now…
Anyways. I want a girlfriend.

[maze]

Go Evan! I seriously love this story.

[elastics.]

I guess I'll post this in blue then...yay for colour! Hurray for huggies!

----

Ahh...the chestnut wood is such a relaxer.

Wait – did he give me a kiss because – no. No. That’s...too…

I buried head in my hands and embraced the darkness with glee.

My lyrics, what I say, even the instrumental pieces I’ve done have depth and resonate throughout my being. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go in front of a crowd of people and say them.

And, of course, there’s the complication of me having less than one day to prepare for this.

No fair.

I am going to go to sleep. I’ll let my subconscious sort this out with dreams.

I took my guitar off my bed and mellowed into my covers.

I love my bed. It’s awesome. Totally addictive. I never want to get out of the bed when I have to wake up.

I set my alarm to 7AM.

Sleep, overcome me.

I awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and this really weird sound that I can’t exactly explain. It’s quite bizarre. Like..ringing and ringing..yeah. It was really creepy.

I’m so pissed off that I didn’t dream. I was supposed to so I could sort everything out.

This is just great.

I’d like to thank my subconscious for being an asshole.

Oh, I’m not getting an award? Screw you!

With effort I got out of my bed and went towards the bathroom and brushed my teeth.

I have this really awesome toothpaste that has mouthwash tied into it and it’s really refreshing. I love it.

I did all the normal get-ready-type stuff until I was just left with my thoughts and instruments.

Okay, okay. This will be fine. You like playing and maybe someone will benefit from what was said. Or, rather, played.

It’s amazing how music can change how you think. Even in a second to second basis. It’s scary how quickly everything can change.

After holding onto something and wanting it to stay forever, but eventually realizing things run their course...it’s just sad.

Inevitable things are always evil. That’s why I’m going to create a machine in which to take those all away.

I will be rich. And you will be totally jealous of me and you’ll want to kiss my ass and give me snickerdoodles.

I flopped onto my bed and muffled something into the covers.

See, we have our own language. It’s pretty awesome.

Then, I pulled out my beautiful acoustic guitar and relaxing melodic passages erupted from my fingertips.

If only I could feel this awesome all the time.

I relaxed until it was time to go to Sam’s house.

My black converse with peppermint laces slapped the concrete with odd intensity.

Ahhh...I am off to do what I might regret or be glad I did for the rest of my life. What a day.

I pulled my baseball cap over my eyes and knocked on the chestnut door.

The whole idea behind baseball caps is that they look fucking fantastic and, yeah, maybe I have a fetish with them.

“Hey, Sasha, come in!” Sam greeted enthusiastically.
“Okies.”

As I went into the living room I saw a group of people gathered.

“Hey,” Sam said, “This is Sasha.”
“Hey,” a tall, lean, brown-haired guy greeted, “I’m Dirk the keyboardist.”
“Yeah, you pretentious son of a bitch!” teased a blonde guy with emo glasses.

Emo glasses are glasses that are chunky and, well, emo.

“I’m Brendan, by the way,” the blonde guy continued, “Dirk just thinks he’s all that. It isn’t even like he’s all that funny and would get on that show if he tried. Amanda Bynes is the epitome of it...duuude.”
“Yeah, old-school All That is awesome. Slime, heheh. You’re the drummer, I presume?”
“That’d be me!”
“Okay, so then let’s practice. We have a show tonight.”

They looked at me and I stared back at them.

“Let’s go!” I screamed spazzily, “we don’t have time for el tocino y los platanos!”

You’d think they thought I was crazy the way they were looking at me.

We just really need to practice. We’re officially a band the day we have to play a show. C’mon, there has to be more drive here.

And they’re concentrating on breakfast.

This is just great.

Breakfast is good, though. It had the best food ever in it. Yeah.

[waitingxforxyou]

breakfast IS awesome...*Sighs* our togetherness is back though your msn is stupid

[waitingxforxyou]

Evan

My stupid alarm clock rang and I rolled over. I really don’t like alarm clocks. They’re annoying. I want to invent the person who made them.

I will hit him with my spoon.

Or her. I don’t want to be sexist.

I slid out of bed like a snake. Hehe.

It was ten o’clock and I think that is the perfect time to wake up. It’s perfect because it’s not so early that I feel dead but it’s not too late where I feel like I’ve wasted my day.

Plus McDonald’s stops serving breakfast at 10:30.

But I don’t know why I know that ‘cause I don’t even like McDonald’s, not since I saw Super Size Me. Who knew that French fries looked like that? Gross!

And they’re just potatoes!! Who knew?

I tried to do the same experiment that dude did, except with potato chips, but I forgot they were part of my experiment and I ate them when I was hungry.

Because you eat when you’re hungry. Duh.

I took a shower. I like showers. They make me feel clean. Sometimes I eat some of the Dove soap on accident.

I told my ex-girlfriend that once and she said it “explained a lot.” I don’t know what she meant, but she stole my lamp, so I don’t really care what she thinks.

Anyways, I kept the water on extra long and it got really steamy in the bathroom and it fogged up the mirror. I like to write messages to myself.

Like today, I wrote “Evan Tauberfield is sexy.”

I was aware that wasn’t my last name. But I thought if I put “Evan Taubenfeld” is sexy, then I would be conceited. So I wrote “Tauberfield” instead.

Evan Tauberfield sounds nice. I’d like to meet him.

I whistled and got dressed in my Maryland Matters t-shirt.

It really does matter, you know. Maryland, that is. I mean, where else do crabs come from?

And don’t you DARE say that prostitute in downtown Harlem because I will deny knowing anything about Charlene…I mean… that prostitute.

I didn’t really sleep with a prostitute. I didn’t know she was one, honest. I got lost and she was so nice. She stopped and was like “Sweetheart, do you need help finding something?”

I replied, “Yes, please, ma’am!”

Next thing I knew she was leaning over my window waiting for a proposition. I sped off. I feel bad sometimes though, because like, it was a damn cold night (hehe) and she wasn’t wearing much. Maybe she just was taking advantage of my warm car.

I petted my rubber ducky that I keep in my bathroom and I grabbed my umbrella.

I bought it the other day and I’m very proud of it. It has Dora the Explorer on it. That’s how I know Spanish.

It’s not “all about the Benjamin’s, bay-bayyyy.” It’s really all about the los platanos.

I held my umbrella over my head and strolled down the street outside of my house. I waved to my neighbors, but they gave me a mean look and drove away.

They’re just jealous of my umbrella. I mean, sure, it’s not raining, but…they’re just jealous.

I wanted breakfast. I thought about Starbuck’s, but they don’t have eggs or anything like that. They just have Mermaid Girl and after our fight yesterday, I don’t think she wanted to talk to me much.

I hailed a taxi and headed to IHOP. I love IHOP. It’s blue.

I pulled my umbrella in and stared at the menu.

It’s so hard to choose breakfast! There are tons of things I would like to eat, like bacon, eggs, muffins, pancakes, sausage!! Who could ever decide?

I ordered one of almost everything and took a few bites of each and I was done with breakfast. I told you I couldn’t ever decide!

Unfortunately I had to go to the office. It’s not that I don’t like working. But some days, I just want to wander everywhere like a hobo and not do anything.

Sanford is my manager and helps with my label.

You probably think I’m too stupid to tie my own shoes, much less run my own label. But I’m seriously not stupid. I’m very smart when it comes to certain things.

And I don’t have to tie my shoes anyways because my candy cane laces never come undone.

Sanford told me that I had to go to Radiate Citrus.

“Erm…are los platanos included in the citrus family?” I asked innocently.

He turned really red and he told me if I “don’t shut up about los platanos, I will personally shove one up your ass!”

“Okies…” I meekly left.

Sanford is nice, but sometimes he gets bent out of shape over the littlest things! It’s okay though.

A banana up the ass would hurt though…

So I guess I’ll go to Radiate Citrus!

[elastics.]

"C'mon, dudes, we need to practice. Don't you care?"
"'Course I do, I just need to finish my brekkie!" Dirk shrieked.
"Um, dude, we're in New York, not Australia. Correct your slang."

Actually, I love different countries' slang. It's just so refreshing. It's like a lemonade, except with limes. The horror!

The loo...the loo...haha. I am such a dork.

"Uhh...I need to finish my breakfast?" he tried.
"In New York English, actually, it's 'we're gonna practice', Dirk."
"Uhh...are you trying to be subtle or something?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Ok, if he doesn't get my sense of humor, then we're screwed.

People tend not to get what I think is hilarious. Only a few people think I'm funny. Everyone else thinks I'm the epitome of weird. Except that I don't think they know what epitome means.

Stupid guys annoy me so much. Especially stupid guys who wear their pants so low half their boxers are showing. Ewwww! Though, black ones with blue stars are pretty cute.

Ohhh and guys that build sandcastles are sexy, too. I was at a beach once and there were seagulls and I was laying on my back with my eyes shut relaxing and this one dude was building a sandcastle nearby and he was getting sand on me.

I was like, wtf! But it was okay, 'cause the sand was sexy hot and warm. Heheh. Sand is cool, along with flip-flops.

I used to be able to do a flip-flop with a spot, but then I got crappy. I think the problem lied in that I wasn't muscular...ehh...whatever.

But back to the shoes...hehe, they're so cute...thongs..

AHAHA, in cooking class a few years ago these people went up to me and said, "Sasha, you should get a thong, panty lines are just sick. I'll sell you one for $15."

I should've bought one, too. With inflation and all that shit.

"Sasha's right," Sam spoke up and broke me out of my thoughts, "we need to practice, but we need a band name..."
"We can think of that on the way there!" I protested, "we need to actually practice!"
"Pssh," Brendan said, "band names are cool! Let's be the Ghetto Monkies!"

The...Ghetto Monkies? Uhhh...someone's mom was a crack-addict.

"Yes!" Dirk agreed, "Da Ghetto Monkayyyys!"
"Cool! We should get Pinochio to be our mascot!" Sam gushed.
"Uhh...Sam? Pinocchio is made of wood. Do you mean Curious George?" I asked.

Larissa - one of my friends - drew Pinocchio on my shoes. It is sexy. Pre-PE funness. hehe, those were the days.

I still have the shoes. She also wrote "HelloGoodbye" and drew an onion.

Totally awesome.

Oh, and with sharpies. Those are amazing sniffables.

Don't worry..I don't vandalize things with sharpies...I...erm, you, well, bye.

"Yeah...him..," he blushed.
"Sokay. So, how many of you want to be called The Ghetto Monkies?" I asked.

I bit my lip. All of their hands went up. I sighed.

I guess I'll have to deal with this stupid name.

What I do for people.

After that, we practiced like hell and eventually it was time to go to Radiate Citrus.

"So, y'all ready?" I asked tentatively.
"Yeah..," they all murmured in agreement.

The practice had been surprisingly good. Once we got settled, it went pretty smoothly and we were able to practice a ton of songs. Even some covers.

So, we went to Radiate Citrus.

I had my sexy Converse with peppermint laces and had these really cool striped black and red socks.

Oh, and a corset. Those are awesome.

Or, for my readers that enjoy erotic fiction...scandalous! You sick perverts!

It was kinda dark out. Mm, I saw a garbage can. It seemed so alone.

[waitingxforxyou]

Evan

I twisted my computer screen around and squirmed in my desk chair. I looked up directions to Radiate Citrus on Mapquest.

By the way, if you ever want to know directions, you should go there and not Yahoo. Yahoo will screw you up, for real.

Like, if you wanted to go to the local grocery store, somehow Yahoo would make you end up on the moon.

I wouldn’t mind going to the moon, actually. I hear it’s made of cheese. I kind of like cheese.

It goes well with wine, apparently.

The directions mission went successful. I clicked ‘print’ happily and leaned back in my desk chair.

I wondered why Sanford wanted me to go to Radiate Citrus so bad. Surely he didn’t want me to buy him fruit. Although that’d be really cool…

I wondered if they’d have fruit smoothies. I love the colors and the fresh, fruity taste. Then the umbrella on top is just so cute and accents the sexy drink perfectly.

Anyways.

I supposed there was a band playing or something. I yawned meagerly.

Bor-ing.

It’s not that I don’t like helping out bands. After all, where would I be if someone hadn’t helped me? It’s just that I’ve discovered three acts that have become huge in the past few years, and now people expect so much of me. I feel like if I endorse anything, it just has to make it. Otherwise people brand me a sell out or some stupid shit like that.

I want some ice cream….

Erm. Back to topic. I guessed I would grab something to eat and head on over to Radiate Citrus. I hoped it was worth my time.

I leaned back more and promptly fell off my chair. Fat Joe should be shot for making that song…

Later that day I was walking to Radiate Citrus when I felt this overwhelming sense of sadness. This time I knew why I was sad though.

Earlier that day, I received some random catalogue (a lamp, to be exact…*sigh*) in the mail that was addressed to my ex-girlfriend. It made me really want a girlfriend.

Listen up, because this is as serious as it’ll ever get with me.

I know it seems like I’m stupid sometimes. Okay, most of the time. Um…fine, dammit! All the time.

But I’m not. I do think about things other than los platanos and mermaid girls. One of those things is the girlfriend situation.

It’s not that I miss my ex-girlfriend, necessarily. But I thought I was in love with her and then later, after she left, realized I wasn’t. Sure, I was upset about it and stayed inside at nights watching movies and eating Ben & Jerry’s…wow, that’s feminine…

Let’s pretend I was lying…

But it made me also realize that I’ve never truly felt love. I’d never looked at someone and just known that I was in love. I’ve never fallen so hard that I would do anything for someone, die for them, be careless, reckless, anything. I’ve never met someone who was anything like me or could understand me.

I want someone who understands why I think my Converses with candy cane laces are sexy.

I want someone who will not look at me weird when I randomly burst into song.

I want someone to drink the Starbuck’s that I throw away.

I want someone who will write messages to me in the mirror.

Maybe it’s all bullshit, but I’d like to believe it.

I’ll shut up now.

I sullenly ate my el platano. I bought it on the way to Radiate Citrus. I thought it would make me feel better even if I am somewhat a loser.

It doesn’t.

I was done with it and I’d arrived at the club. I almost didn’t know that I had arrived. There wasn’t like a line or anything to get inside. It must not be a very good club.

I considered not going inside. I mean, how would Sanford ever know I hadn’t gone? It’s not like he would ask me the color of the bartender’s shirt or anything.

Besides, I could always lie and say it was red. Red is a safe color.

I decided to go home, but first I needed a trash can to throw my banana peel in. I was not going to be like the stupid person the other day who left their peel on the ground for me to trip over.

I peeked into the alley behind Radiate Citrus and saw a trash can. Perfecto.

I was walking to it when…it began to move.

“Shit, a haunted trash can! Oh my God, and not even en el desayuno!” I screamed.

[elastics.]

Not that I'm all, 'garbage cans are sexy, we must fuck them' because that simply is not the case. They hold garbage. Yes. Erm. Fetish.

"Dude, I hafta pee!" Dirk shouted abruptly.
"Uhh...then do it."
"Okies!"

Dirk went off into my line of vision. It seemed like he was walking to the trash cane.

No! It's MY trash can, you foo! Yes, foo, dammit.

"Dirk!" I called sweetly, "I have, uh, a coupon for a porn site."

I was walking down the street this one time and I was looking down 'cause I felt like it and I saw something shiny.

I decided to pick it up and it said it was a coupon for a porn site - Gsdklfj FOOBUZZSGS - oh, what kind of name is that?! And I kept in it my pocket for safekeeping.

I knew it'd come in handy sometime...he looked like a horny bastard.

Not that that's a bad thing.

"Oooh, really?" he asked.
"Yep, but you'll have to pee in those bushes," I pointed over into a dark area.
"Uhmf, okay..."

Dirk went near the bush and unzipped pants and lowered his boxers.

"What? 'O you wanna look at my thang?"
"Oh, hell no! Just...uh...fuck...erm, here's the porno thingy...I'm leaving."

Ewww...if I saw his penis I'd be scarred for life.

More accurately, I'd be scarred for two minutes. My psychological scarring goes quickly because I was taken in by aliens when I was 5.

No joke.

Anyways, I started walking away from my band.

"Hey, Sash, you know we have a show, be there, ok?" Sam said.
"Yeah, yeah...girl stuff," I muttered.
"Tampons?" Brendan asked sheepishly.
"Pads," I declared.

I turned on my sexy converses with peppermint laces.

Dude, those converses are sexy. I got the laces at H&M. If I find a guy that shops at H&M, too, oh my gawwd!!

Stupid relationships.

I'm not even sure if I want a boyfriend.

I looked into the darkness. It's so sweet. And relaxing.

When night envelopes you, it's like a happy thought just...it's..comforting in it's own special way.

I like taking walks in the dark. It helps get stuff out.

I don't know why I'm drawn to this garbage can. It's weird. I just feel like I have to do something with it. Like..something important will come of it.

Blatant foreshadowing, anyone?

I tend to go with my gut instincts on things. When I don't, well, that's why I'm 5'2".

See, I could've been much taller, but this stupid bicycle ran into me and stunted my growth.

The rider's excuse was, "I slipped over los platanos". More like los Fuckanos.

Tengo fuck anos.

I sat on the trash can. I crossed my legs.

Contrary to popular belief, I do not want a dirty old man to approach me.

Though, I wouldn't mind Harrison Ford...

I just like this sitting position. It's comfy. Like pillows.

I took out a lollipop from my pocket. It was one of those with gum inside. Oh, and it was sour! Yummm!

Even though it wasn't a tootsie pop, I got curious how many licks it'd take to get to the center. Sadly, I don't have enough time, but I'll put the tally on the wrapper and continue later...da boom!

I am special. You are not.

Bitches.

You're not a bitch, though, you're a lollipop.

Heheheh.

I started counting, but then I heard a rustle. What the fuck?

Someone better not be trying to feel me up…sick bastards.

New York safety sucks. That's why I have my lollipop. I can stick in their hair and the thugs will run off and try to steal hair gel.

But I really wanted to count.

Maybe I could hit him with my converses...peppermints are very powerful...