Dear Friends and Readers,

Today is Friday, July 4, 2008.

This is Entry Number 65.

Happy Independence Day, all. Sadly, I hope yours is going better than mine is. It's not that mine's going poorly, I suppose. I just wish it weren't going the way it is going. We're still having problems with his God-forsaken computer. Every time you turn it off and turn it back on, it flashes black for sometimes days straight. Meaning it cannot be used during this time. Which is an absolute pain in the ass. But I've finally gotten it to stop, and here I sit.

The fam went to spend the day with Daddy's side of the family. And let's just say we're not all that close to them, they're not really parts of our lives. But, alas, we're still forced to spend several holidays with them. Daddy hates it when I opt not to attend these little get-together, but I simply cannot sit there for six, seven hours with no one to even talk to. Karen always says, "Why don't you go get on the computer?" The one problem is, as she always adds, they "have no Internet, and don't really have any games." So I'm forced to sit there for sometimes seven hours and watch these strangers that are supposed to be my relatives doing illegal fireworks.

So here I sit all alone, watching "The Girls Next Door" on E!. Yeah. Well, I was watching E! News, but this came on, and I can't find the remote. So I'm seriously depressed. I mean, yeah, I opted to stay, but I'm still sort of lonely.

So I'm going to go find something to do.

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is Thursday, July 3, 2008.

This is Entry Number 64.

"There is still a feeling of rejection when someone says she prefers the company of others to your exclusive company."  

Those are lyrics from a song called "Popular" from the debut album, "High/Low", of an indie-rock band called Nada Surf. Those are also the words I have used to describe this situation with Connie right from the beginning. The song is about the band's "three rules for breaking up". He talks about how you shouldn't "put off breaking up when you know you want to", and how you should "avoid making a flowery, and emotional speech". But he also says that "there is still a feeling of rejection when someone says she prefers the company of others to your exclusive company". And even though it refers to the girl telling the guy that she doesn't want to be his girlfriend anymore, it still is very relevant to my situation with Connie in this way:

I don't like Connie. There; I said it. I dislike her. I dislike being around her, I dislike having to talk to her, I dislike when she talks to me. I dislike everything about her. But somehow, "there is still a feeling of rejection" when she excludes me: makes plans with mutual friends without telling me; tries to, not only make it quite clear that she wants nothing to do with me, but also tries to drag away the people who, hopefully, still do want to have something to do with me. 

But now, Miss Connie Mailla, you have gone too far. Well, you went too far a long time ago, but this is simply making life unfair for, not only me, but my mother, siblings, and friends.

Two days ago, Tuesday night, Jenna called or e-mailed Mother and asked if we were going to Julia's house the next day, Wednesday. Mother had not heard anything about a get-together at Julia's house, and nor had I. Mother informed me of this, asking if I'd heard anything about it. I had not. 

Mother then called Jenna the next morning, Wednesday morning, and asked to forward the e-mail that Jenna received from Julia to her, my mother. Jenna did so, and Mother read it. At the end, Julia said to Annilee --- of course! --- that she didn't have Jenna's, Hailey's, or Rosalie's e-mail address, and asked if Annilee could forward this message to the three of them, because everyone knows Annilee knows the e-mail address of everyone in this world. 

And that is how Jenna received the invitation: the forwarded message from Annilee, that was originally from Julia. But the question my mother and I were asking was, Why, if Julia didn't have my mother's e-mail, didn't she simply have Annilee send it to us, too? Were we not invited in the first place? 

Jenna then offered to call Julia and casually, tactfully, ask if the Sadners were invited, for they were not on the list either, and if we were invited, also.  According to Jenna, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, Julia said very casually, genuinely, that she simply invited the people that her children were friends with. Which makes sense: Riley plays with all of those little girls; Max (blah) is friends with Alex, and so is Josh. Those three, the three people I was sure had been invited, made perfect sense to me. 

I then asked Mother if the Mailla had been invited; she said they had. And this thoroughly pissed me off. Why should Connie be invited, and I shouldn't? I spend as much time with Alex as Connie does, which is barely any time at all; her two brothers aren't friends with Josie. So why should then be invited, and I shouldn't?

And there it is again. Do I like the people in the group that was invited? With the exception of Regan, no, not one of them. But it still hurts to know that I wasn't invited. Well, I take that back: to say that is "hurts" isn't the right word; Julia had every right to invite only her childrens' friends, it is her home that she is opening to the guests, after all. But it's still a bit odd that Connie, who spends no more time with Alex than I do, should be invited. 

But that wasn't even the start. Jenna then mentioned that there was to be a get-together at Annilee's house to swim next week. And that's where I draw the line. Everyone else was invited. Everyone. All the Home-School Group people, all the study group people, all the original Monday Group people. Everyone.  And on top of that, I was an original Monday Group person. And I don't mean this the way it sounds, but I began haning out with the Maillas long before any one in Home-School group did. 

And this is what really got me: just because Connie has a problem with me, now my little brother doesn't get to go swim with his friends on Wednesday. And on top of that, there is, evidently, a Wednesday Group that I had heard nothing about. 

It's just so sad that all of this has happens simply because Connie's finally realized that, not only is she uglier than I don't know, and not only does she look like some kind of muppet, she's also realized that there are --- obviously, considering she looks like what she does --- going to be people in this world that are a lot prettier than her.

That's all this is: Connie is just pissed because I'm prettier than her; Connie is just pissed because I am a better writer than her; Connie is just pissed because Regan and I are best friends, and we don't invite her to hang out anymore; Connie is just pissed because Max liked me before he liked her; Connie is just pissed because I have more in common with Ryan than she does; Connie is just pissed because I have a bigger vocabulary than her; Connie is just pissed because I knew Allie, Cami, and all the Home-School Group people before she did; Connie is just pissed because, in her eyes, I am better than her. 

And, you know what, I find that incredibly sad. Not sarcastic sad; I find that sad, the literal meaning of the word. I find it sad that Connie, deep down, feels like she isn't pretty; I find it sad that Connie, deep down, feels like no one likes here. But you know what? IT IS STILL NOT MY PROBLEM.

It's not my fault that Connie looks like some smashed-face muppet; it's not my fault that I can write better than Connie; it's not my fault Re and I are really, really great friends; it's not my fault that Max, and all of the other boys, for that matter, always has --- and I think always will --- thought I was cuter than her; it's not my fault Ryan and I like a lot of the same music; it's not my fault I know of more words --- and use more words correctly --- than Connie does; it's not my fault that my mother joined Home-School Group and I became friends with Allie, Cami, and all those other people when I was six years old; it's not my fault that, somewhere deep in her heart, Connie thinks I'm better than her.

And yet, for months now, she's taken it out on me. Mother told me today that she wouldn't be surprised if this whole thing is just some big scheme Connie and Annilee have set up. Jennifer and Charlotte are prettier, smarter, and more well-liked than will ever be. So what do we do? We'll just get rid of them. We'll just make them look and feel like such outcasts that no one will want to have anything to do with them, and they'll just leave the group so we can go back to constantly talking about how many people we know, and how we know everything there is to know, and we drink Starbucks and coffee and look hot while we do all those petty things. 

I wouldn't be surprised if Annilee's exact words varried just slightly from what I've just said. And I think Annilee is setting a terrible example for her children by concocting these schemes; I think Annilee is setting a terrible example for the moms by denying that her daughter could have had a hand in this at all. "I have not observed this, and it does not sound like Connie. Therefore, it must not be true.

BULL.

SHIT.

Connie is more to blame --- if not entirely to blame --- in this situation than even that mean bully Ryan whose life Annilee also seems to want to make a living hell. I'm surprised she hasn't just thrown all this on Ryan: Oh, it's not Connie's fault! That mean Ryan boy is a terrible influence over my beautiful, smart, talented daughter! She could never has acted like the slut that you've made her out to be!"

Again:

BULL.

SHIT.

Both Annilee and Connie are phonies, and they know it. They've always known it. But you know what? Things are changing. Things are changing because Annilee and Connie have finally met someone who isn't going to put up with them; someone who sees right through their phony, perfect-life, perfect-family act; someone who isn't going to let Connie get away with her hi-I'm-Connie-it's-so-nice-to-meet-you-come-on-let-me-show-you-around act; they have finally come across someone who they can't fool: me.
 

Dear Friends and Readers,

Today is Monday, June 20, 2008.

This is Entry Number 63.

I went to see "Get Smart" with Regan, Bobbie, and Allie a few days ago. I was very thankful to see that, not only did she not show up, but Connie wasn't even on the guest list. This is probably a result of my making it absolutely clear to Bobbie, without coming right out and saying it, that if she wants to invite me and wants me to attend, then she can't invite Connie. It's not like I said to her, "Bobbie, if you invite Connie I'm not going to come." I think she just knows that if she invites Connie --- which she almost never does, because she's just as sick of her as I am --- then I won't enjoy myself, if I come at all.

I love it when I go out with all of my girl-friends and Bobbie's there. Because the rest of them secretly think we look like losers. We love to get all dolled up in our skinny-jeans, brightly-colored tight t-shirts with sweaters that don't match, the Converse we never take off, tease our hair until stands up like crazy, and wear tons of eye make-up. We love the "scene" look; we just refuse to call ourselves "scene" or "emo" because they're all posers. I know it, they know it, and the American people know it! What's that from, anyway? My mother says that all the time, and I have no idea what it's from. I just like how it sounds.

Anywho. . . .

When I showed up I saw that, sure enough, Re and Allie were all dolled up in their sun dresses and mini-skirts. Don't get me wrong, I do love my sun dresses. I just prefer my skinny-jeans and eye-liner. Sue me. So we got our popcorn, drinks, and candy before going into the theater. Oh yeah, Bobbie and I accidently said Liv Tyler was cute. Yeah, we saw her on some poster, and thought she was a dude. Bobbie was like, "Oooh, he's kinda cute."

I said "eww" at first, but later agreed. We then discovered, after seeing the preview for the movie the poser was for, that it was, in fact, Liv Tyler, and started cracking up. While we were watching the previews, Re was talking about how huge her cup was. She got a small, but it was jynormous. She said, "It's huge! I can't even get my hand around it!" 

I, of course, said, "That's what she said", causing Bobbie and me to go into fits of laughter, while Re and Allie just sat there, and giggled, pretending to get it.  Bobbie and I basically celebrated a that's-what-she-said festival a few weeks ago at the mall, and now we just can't stop saying it!

We girls decided it was creepy that (spoiler alert!) Anne Hathaway ended up with Steve Carrell. I mean, it may have just been because we all think he's adorable, and we were just mad. We liked the movie mainly because we got to see Steve Carrell's butt.

I was kind of thinking that, being the "Office" finatic that I am, he might be Michael Scott in the movie. And, I have to admit, there were a few scenes where I wouldn't go as far as to say that he was Michael, but it could have possibly been something Michael would say.

In other news (I've always wanted to say that), for the past two weeks, every time you turn on the computer, the screen flashes black for sometimes an hour and a half. Well, today is flashed for about fourteen hours. Yeah. So this is the first time I've been on the computer day. I'm so glad Daddy fixed it; what ever would I do without my journal!

Be well, everyone!

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is Sunday, June 23, 2008.

This is Entry Number 62.

Yes, that is not only my current Facebook status, but my current life-status: disappointed. I swore to myself, after dealing with Connie Mailla for as long as I have, that the next time Max asked me to explain the situation to him (for the millionth time), I would just say "no". But of course he gave me the old, "Charlotte, don't know how much sleep I've lost over this whole situation, and all I'm asking is that you just tell me wha the problem is. Is that too much to ask?"

No. No, of course it's not too much to ask --- once. Not fifteen times. When Max first learned of the issues I was having with Connie, I sat down with him, and I told him everything. (The censored version, at least.) And really though that would be it, that he would just let it go, and accept the fact that I simply have issues with his girlfriend, and he needs to be a man and suck it up. Why I thought that, I have no idea. I guess I thought I knew Max better than I actually do. But in other ways, I feel like I know Max better than he does. And I probably do.

So I'm on Facebook one night, and I see that Max is on. And whenever I see that Max is on I say hi to everyone else that's on, and book it getting off. Because I love Max to death, but I simply cannot stand talking to him online. He can't spell worth crap, and he spells words with Is with Ys because he thinks it's "lyke" cool or something. And that's something I really can't stand. But oh, the meanie caught me.

The chat window pops up with a message from Max (this would include tons of "u" 's and "r" 's, but I can't bring myself to type that, so I'm going to translate his "chatspeak" into non-loser talk): "Hey Charlotte. What's up?"

I felt like saying "your mom" because I was so mad at him, but I didn't. I just said, "Nothing really. I'm kinda bored. What about you?"

Max said, "Not much. Hey, how was the concert?" This was the dat after the Raconteurs/Black Lips concert in at Riverbend in Ohio, I think.

I told him a little bit about it (mostly I just talk about how amazing Jack was), but then said I'd wait until the next time I saw him (which I was hoping would be never, considering I was, and still am, so sick of him), for there was just too much to tell.

So I'm telling him a little about the concert, right? And then I ask him a question or something, I don't remember, and he responds to the question, and adds randomly at the end, "I'll bet you don't know what Kyle said."

And, being the smart-ass that has no time for his and Kyle's childish games person that I am, I said, "Nope, I don't. Anywho . . ."

And then he just goes on with whatever we were talking about before. Now, since you don't know Max like I do, you're probably thinking, "What the hell was the Kyle thing about?" But since I do know Max like I do (which makes no sense), I thought nothing of it. If I had a nickel for every random thing like that he said, I would be a very rich woman. Well, girl, I am technically a child.

But I did start to get curious. So after we'd pretty much said all we could say on the topic we were discussing, I added casually, "So did you wanna tell me what Kyle said? What was that about, anyway?"

And he said, "Nah, I think I'll wait until the next time I see you." Again, I thought, All right, whatever, Max. I don't really care. I mean, yeah, I was a little curious now, because I now knew that it was something he was planning on telling me, and not just a random Maxism.

And once again I bring up another topic, and we start talking about that. And then, at the end of one of his responses, Max adds, "It's about you, by the way." And this is what Max does when he knows something you don't: he keeps bringing it up, but won't tell you what it is, because he needs that satisfaction of you begging him to tell you, instead of him just telling you, which is all he really wanted in the first place.

Well, I usually wouldn't give him said satisfaction, but now that I knew it was about me, I was pretty curious. So even though I already knew, I said, "What is? What's about me?"

"What Kyle said" is all he says.

I then said, "And that is . . .?"

And then he goes, "I already told you that I'll tell you the next time I see you", which really got me, because now he's getting impatient with me, when he's the one who won't freaking tell me what that loser Kyle told him --- and God knows how many of their loser friends --- about me.

"Well, Max, why the hell did you bring it up if weren't going to tell me?" I said.

Then, of course, he comes right and says, "Because I knew it'd kill you if you didn't know."

I said, "Max, you had better freaking tell me. You know . . . I could tell Connie some things . . ."

And that throws him into a tizzy: "What do you mean? What kind of things would you tell Connie?"

I said, "Oh . . . you know . . . things."

He then demanded to know what but I wouldn't tell him.

So I don't know what's going to happen with this.

Take care, all.

Charlotte

Dear Lovely Friends and Readers,

Today is Saturday, June 14, 2008.

This is Entry Number 62.

I went to my cousin Amy's wedding today. My aunt bought my this gorgeous little pink, green, and blue dress a few months ago for her wedding, and I have been so very excited to wear it ever since. So I got up this morning (at like eleven, I'm sorry to say) and got my hair all did, my make-up all purdy-like, and put on my boodiful little dress.

The only reason I went to the wedding was because my grandmother wanted to show me off. I mean, I'm not bragging. I'm really not. I'm not "American's Next Top Model" here! I mean, I'm pretty, but I'm truly not drop-dead gorgeous, and I can admit that. But to my grandmother and everyone in my family, I am don't-even-wait-to-drop-dead-just-go-ahead-and-shot-yourself-dead gorgeous. So they pay all this money to dress me up prettier than the bride, for me to be at the wedding --- no, not even in the wedding, but simply at the wedding --- for twenty minutes.

I had been paranoid about the whole usher thing. I don't know why, but for some reason, I was just terrified. I mean, it's probably Max's fault that I was acostumed to these things. (He was never a big fan of the whole PDA thing.) When we got there I saw all these gross old guys standing there, so that simply added to my terror over the whole thing. And then I see that I get my cousin Alex and it's all good. He's fourteen, so it wasn't like I got this old geezer who couldn't even hear whether I said "bride" or "groom".

So it was all right. Afterwards, we had to go to Lily's dance recital. The thing lasts like four hours, I swear. I mean, I don't mind going to it, because I know Lily would want me to be there. But I'd already been to Amy's wedding, and I simply wasn't in the mood to go sit for four hours, and watch grade-school girls do the same thing over and over and over again. And to make matters worse, my grandmother had to go and pull one of her little stunts.

The second we walk into the auditorium, fifteen minutes late, the rectical having already started, my grandmother shrieks, "My eyes need to adjust! It's dark in here, and I might fall! My eyes need to adjust!" Well, the freaking recital is in progress, and she's standing right out in the middle of the isle, right in front of everyone, shrieking at me, "Hold still now! My eyes need to adjust!"

After we sit down she never shut up the whole time: "Is that Sammy? That's Sammy, right? Yes, I think it is. Well, I know it's her because she' better than any of 'em!" And then of course it gets even worse when Lily's dance comes. She screams through the whole thing, "Yeah Lily! Go Lily!" And of course looks at me when it's over and says, "Your sister was the best, wasn't she? Wasn't she, Charlotte?" And expects me to agree. Well, I'll say this: my sister is eleven years old, and is a hell of a dancer. But she certainly wasn't the best in the show. And Lily knows that, and would admit that. It's just so pitiful.

By the end I was in such a freaking bad mood that I told my aunt I wasn't feeling well, and made her take my home before she took Lily and Liam out for pizza.

So here I am.

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is Thursday, June 12, 2008.

This is Entry Number 60.

Vanessa and Noah Horeck came over today. Lily and I have been very good friends with Vanessa for years, and Liam hangs with Noah. Vanessa is twelve, I think, maybe thirteen by now, so she usually hangs more with Lily, although I used to be far closer to her than Lily was. Anyway, she was mainly here today to hang with Lily at the pool. Mother took the two girls and the two boys over there at 1:00. I was looking forward to just hanging out here, without anyone bugging me, so I was pretty disappointed when Lily and Vanessa show up at the door, having walked home from the pool, at 2:00.

After they got in they decided to go on Neopets. Now, I will remind you if you forgot and tell if you don't already know, Neopets is a children's site where you get to take care of these pets. They also have amazingly-protected chat rooms where you so much as say "crap" and your account is frozen. Well, Lily and Vanessa do absolutely nothing with the pets. They go on these chat rooms and scare the living hell out of the unsuspecting kids who are using the site for what it's supposed to be used for: taking care of these pets, "Neopets".

The story Lily and V, as she sometimes goes by, came up with with was that they were a fifty-year-old man, and were asking these people to meet them at the YMCA and then maybe go to Starbucks for coffee afterward. Well, of course none of these kids bought it, because I don't think kids even go on that site anymore. It's overrun with bitchy teenage posers calling themselves "emo" and "scene".

Well, after about five minutes their account was frozen. They then decided to go on Zwinky, a site that, unfortunitely, people use for the exact thing Lily and Vanessa pretend to use it for. Some person even said, "I'm telling my mom!"

It was funny.

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is Wednesday, June 11, 2008.

This is Entry Number 60 (!).

For the past few weeks I've been talking about nothing but one thing: the Raconteurs concert. As a lot of my long-time readers know (and those who have read my journal's discription) I am completely and entirely in love with Jack White. Now it's not like a Pete Wentz deal where I just think he's hot (though he is); I am in love with his music. He is, by far, the most talented musician of this generation. And he's only thirty-two; how amazing is that? Anyway, the concert was last night. And I'm just going to say it: it was the single most amazing experience of my entire life. I mean, cannot even describe to you how amazing it was to be standing there, watching Jack and the rest of the Raconteurs perform. It really was the most amazing thing I've ever seen, I think. Oh, and it was cutest thing. When Jack was playing, you know, he'd just be playing, and then all of a sudden, he'd drop the guitar so it was just hanging by the strap, fix his hair (!), and then just start playing again. Right in the middle of the song! I loved it! It was hilarious!

Anywho . . .

We had to drive all the way to Ohio (it was at Riverbend), but it was so worth it. We checked into the hotel and all, and hung out for a little while before it was time to go to the show. Since Jack's colors are red, white, and black, of course, Lily and I got all decked out in this whole red-white-and-black entourage. When we first got there, Lily and I were looking everywhere for him. We thought for sure we'd just see him walking along, lah-dee-dah-dee-dah, going to his concert. Of course we didn't.

After going to the bathroom we went to our seats. I thought I saw this really cool guy I met at Regan's church once, and I forgot to ask her when I saw her today. I really wanted to go over and say hi to him, too, but I wasn't sure whether it was him or not, and I certainly didn't want to pull a Regan in front of Jack-Freaking-White.

A band called the Black Lips opened for the Raconteurs. I'm not sure if they're even signed or anything, because I got the distict impression that no one had a clue who they were. And I mean, I'm usually familiar with a lot of indie and unsigned bands (indie-rock is really the only genre of music I listen to), but even I had no clue who these guys were.

It was four guys, all real young-looking. (I have no idea how old they were. Young is pretty much all I can say.) The drummer was totally "sick", as rocker girls like Bobbie and me say. He was just going wild up there, banging on those drums. And the singer/guitarist had some wicked moves, he really did. He had on this baggy t-shirt, baggy brown pants, and this bright-orange hat. He looked super cool. He kept spitting in the air, jumping around for a second, and then catching it in his mouth. (Eww, right?) But even I have to admit it was pretty wild. But seriously, you should have seen this dude's moves. He was just rocking up there; looked like he was seizing or something. It was totally sweet, though. The only thing that sucked about the Black Lips' performance was that the stupid roadies totally jipped them when they were setting up their equipment. The sound quility was terrible. You couldn't pick out the vocals from anything; it was just like one big blob of noise. But from what I heard, they sounded all right. They seemed like they were just learning how to play their instruments, according to Daddy, and I must agree (because I'm cool that way).

After the Black Lips' played, it took the sound guys around twenty minutes to set up the Raconteurs' stuff. Which Daddy said was pretty quick, compared to some of the concerts he had been to, but it seemed like years to Lily and me. You should have seen us: we were just about jumping out of our chairs by then. While they were setting up they played this really dweebish music. Daddy says they play dweebish music before the main act comes on to make them sound better. But Jack definitely didn't need that; he's amazing not matter who he plays after.

After every song would end everyone would start clapping and going crazy. And Lily and I would stand up on our seats, trying to see Jack. But alas, some other dweebish song would come on. But oh my God, you should have seen Lily and me when they came out onto the stage. We must have looked like to NSYNC-obsessed girls when Justin Timberlake walked in the room. (Justin Timberlake was in NSYNC, right? Sorry, folks, I am the weirdest girl ever; I was never a boy-band kind of girl.) When they came out, Patrick sits down at the drums and it getting all ready, Brendan and Jack Lawrence (and that freaking amazing hair of his, and those hawt glasses) walk up to their microphones, and that hot keyboard-player who has a kick-ass voice and plays the fiddle (I know, how cool is that?) and whose name I cannot for the life of me find out, sits down at the keyboard, but Jack White ("my Jack", as I like to refer to him) picks up his guitar all casually (Lily and I are dying by then) and keeps his back to the audience.

The first song they played was the title track off their most recent album, their second, "Consolers of the Lonely". Brendan sings the first part of that; so he starts singing, and not only does Jack still have his back to the audience, but he's just standing there, chatting with Patrick, the drummer! It was the hilarious; can't you see why I love him? By then it's seconds away from Jack's part of the song, and he's just standing there, chatting. And as coolly as can be, he just turns around and starts singing. You should have heard every one screaming at the top of his or her lungs (Lily and myself included)! You couldn't even hear the parts Jack sang in the first few songs, because every one was screaming for him so loud!

After the "Consolers of the Lonely", which sounded unbelievable, they played "Hold Up!", another one off the new record. It was really cool, because Jack used one of those funky microphones that distorts your voice at the part where they all yell "Hold up! Hold up!" Next they played "Top Yourself", another one from the new album, which, of course, was fantastic. Then they played one of my favorites off the new album, "You Don't Understand Me", where Jack ("my Jack") plays some kick-ass piano. Then they played another one of my personal favorites off the new album, "The Switch and the Spur". And then I think it was next that they played what might just be my favorite off the new ablum, "Old Enough".

On the way to the concert, Daddy, Lily, and I listened to the Raconteur's new CD. And while listening to "Old Enough", Daddy and I said that they better have a fiddle-player there to play the sick fiddle part. Well, I'm picturing a big group of these cowboy guys coming out onto the stage, all playing fiddles. So Brendan comes over to the microphone, and says, "Here's another one from the new album: 'Old Enough'." Well, I'm looking around for the "cowboys" when I notice the cute keyboard-player. Why did I notice him? Because the kid (from where we were sitting, he looked like he could have been nineteen years old) picks up a frikkin' fiddle and just starts rockin' out. Oh my God, it was one of the best songs out of the whole show. I cannot for the life of me think of the names of the next two songs they played at the moment, but of course they were amazing.

After that Jack makes this whole production of them leaving. (He even does the whole, "Behind me is Patrick, to my right is Jack, to my left is Brendan, I'm Jack White, we're the Raconteurs, thank you, and goodnight!" thing.) They all walk off the stage. Well, so help God, this whole group of teenagers in front of us left the damn show!

Throughout the entire, what ended up being about a twenty-minute break, everyone clapped. When we were nearing twenty minutes, people started banging on the chairs, and that finally got them to coem back out. Well, I feel sorry for the idiots who left, because they missed one hell of a show. The second half of the show was better than the first! The first song they did after the break was "Rich Kid Blues," yet another from the new album. They did a few more from the new one, and then people started going crazy when they started playing the first and only single they've released off of "Consolers of the Lonely", "Salute Your Salute". The whole place was jumping up and down to the beat of the music. It was crazy!

But people really went crazy when they played "Steady, as She Goes", the first single the band ever released. They changed it around so much that, though it's never been one of my favorite Raconteurs songs, it was definitely one of my favorites of the night. One of the best songs they did, I think, was "Level", which they played next, and which is also off their debut album, "Broken Boy Soldiers". I was hoping they would play the title track off that album and "Store Bought Bones", another one off "Broken Boy Soldiers", and which is one of my all-time favorite Raconteurs songs. I think the last song they played must have been "Blue Veins". It's about four minutes long on the album, I think, but it lasted at least ten at the show. It was amazing.

By the time it was over I still couldn't believe it. I mean, at this time last night, I had just been in a room with Jack White (and two hundred other people), the guy I've worshipped forever. I mean, hell, I still can't believe it, sitting here right now. The show lasted at least two hours, but it went by so fast. It seemed like one minute Jack was still standing there, his back turned to the audience, acting all cool, and the next he was saying, "Thank you, Cincinnati! We'll see ya next time!"

On the way home Daddy said if they ever come around here or even back to Ohio we're totally going. He said next we have to Panic at the Disco. We love them.  I really want to see the Stripes, though. (The White Stripes is Jack's other band of eleven years, in which he sings lead, plays guitar, and keyboard, and his ex-wife, Meg, plays drums and sings occasianally.) I've always been very loyal to the Stripes: you ask me which one of Jack's band I like better, I spit it right out: THE WHITE STRIPES. But after last night, I'm really coming around to the Raconteurs. I'm mean, I'm giving up on the Stripes just yet, no way. I still love them more than any other band.

So, before I go, I just need to say it once more: I LOVE JACK WHITE.

Take care, all.

Charlotte, future Mrs. Jack White.

Wait, he's married. Never mind; I meant future Mrs. Ryan Ross.

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is 30 minutes away from being Monday, June 9, 2008.

This is Entry Number 59.

Bobbie and I finally got to hang out together at the mall on Saturday. We'd not seen each other since school let out, and messaging on Facebook about Jack-Freakin'-Hottie-White is not nearly as enjoyable as talking about (and drooling all over) him in person. So Bobbie and I took three days discussing where would be the perfect place to hang out. Since we both live close to it (and because we're cool that way), we decided on the boring old mall.

Whenever we go out somewhere we like to dress up like all these "scene" and "emo" posers, and walk around with funky hair-dos, skinny jeans, and raccoon-like eye-liner, and glare at people who look at us funny. It's quite enjoyable because when the real posers see us, they act even cooler, which, in our eyes, makes them look even lamer. (Is "lamer" a word?)

Anyway, we pulled off this very graceful move when I first got there. She was already inside, waiting for me, because I'm always late, and I was coming up the sidewalk outside. See, the doors are just glass, so we could see each other. Well, she took off running toward me, and I took off running toward her. It was then, after I'd started running and it was far too late to stop, that there were "Caution: Wet Floor" signs all over the place. We banged into each other (without falling, amazingly) and started jumping up and down, screaming, killing our "scene-poser" look in two seconds.

We walked around for about a half an hour, just talking and acting crazy, before I dared Bobbie to go into Abercrombie, which is against our religion, because talk about posers. If there were any girl on this earth that actually used the word "like" as many times as the girls in those stores do, I'd be amazed. Now don't get me wrong: I'm no tomboy here. I've always described it as I'm not a "tomboy", I just hate sports; I'm not a "prep", I simply like to look nice.

After searching around for a Hot Topic for for-like-ever (that seems to be where all the posers hang out), and having no luck finding one, we settled on the vending machine where Bobbie forced me to get a Pepsi, something that is against my religion, because they had no Coke. She's a firm follower of Pepsi; I'm a firm follower of Coke. It's amazing that we haven't killed each other by now...

After we had our fake-Coke...I mean "Pepsi", we headed down to the food court to sit around and glare at people and use the word "sick" in place of the word "awesome" like "scene" people (also known as posers) do. We then got into this whole conversation about swearing. How people swear so much and what we think about. We both pretty much agreed on this basic point: as long as it's not directed toward anyone, said what ever the hell you want. For example, I said, If you've been running around all day, and you just need to say, 'I forgot the damn dry cleaning', fine, just say it; it's not hurting anyone. The only thing that really bothers me is name-calling. All I ever here anymore is guys calling each other "fags"; girls calling each other "whores". It gets old...

We then started talking about teenage guys and how in-the-gutter their minds are. We said that we don't have a problem with "that's what she said" and stuff (it's actually our favorite phrase because it makes absolutely no sense for us to say it); it's just when they start laughing at everything you say, and then say, "Oooh, that sounded really wrong", and then refuse to tell you just how it sounded wrong, because they go all gentlemanly and don't want to "be rude to the ladies". Also known as BULLSHIT.

And that's when it started. I mean, there were no guys around to tell us that we don't know what it means, so just about everything that came out of one of our mouths, the other followed it with "that's what she said". My personal favorite was when we were talking about how we would just like to joke around with our guys friends, instead of them having to make everything sound like a rated-R moving, and Bobbie said, "I mean, I love joking around! I do it with Josh all the time!"

My response: "That's what she said."

We also just about died when we were talking about "Scrubs" and Bobbie something about Dr. Cox. I don't know that I've ever laughed that hard in my entire life. Just the word cracks us up. And it's just his name, for crying out loud!

We had another near-death experience when I was describing how all Liam ever says is "that's what she said", without even knowing what it means. I said, "I mean, you can just be like, 'Hey Liam, what's up?', and he says, 'That's what she said'."

And Bobbie goes, "Well, that tells me he knows exactly what it means."

It was hi-larious!

Well, I guess that's all.

Take care.

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends,

Today is Thursday, June 5, 2008.

This is Entry Number 58.

Wow, has it been a while! Well, actually, I think it's only been a week, but for me to go a week without blogging, that's a pretty long while! So Bobbie jokes that I'm rubbing this is her face, but I just have to say it: FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE RACONTEURS CONCERT AND JACK-FREAKIN'-HOTTIE-LOVE-OF-MY-LIFE-WHITE!! Oh my God, you have no idea how excited I am! And on top of that, my aunt is (hopefully) taking Lily, Regan, and me to a Panic at the Disco concert in Chicago, Illinois, in November! And on top of both of those, I get to go to a wedding on June 14! So I have some really awesome stuff happening here. Oh! And on top of all three of those, I'm hanging out with Bobbie at the mall tomorrow. Aside from Re who I see at least twice a week (if not more) I've not seen anyone outside of school. Oh well, I take that back: I did see Max (blah) and Cami at the park last Friday. And as a plus, I've not seen Connie Mailla since the last day of SPAAC, and don't see any reason why I'll have to see her until Allie's party.

So...long story short: I'm doing all right.

Well, I think I'm gonna burn some CDs. Daddy wants a Raconteurs CD so we can get hyped up on our way to the concert. It's not going to be too long a drive, but considering we're in the car twenty minutes, and Lily's already whining, it's gonna be long.

That's what she said.

Take care.

Charlotte

Dear Friends and Readers,

Today is Friday, May 30, 2008.

This is Entry Number 57.

Since both regular SPA and SPAAC are over for the school year, Mrs. Vonne organized a little trip to the park. Sure, sounds like a lot of fun, right? Well, when there's also a skatepark, and you have five hot skater guys running around in skinny-jeans and eye-liner, yeah, it's pretty fun. Oh, and one minor detail I forgot to mention: THE MAILLA FAMILY IS IN CALIFORNIA. Yes, I had a whole Connie-Conor-and-Annilee-free day. And let me tell ya, I took advantage of it.

But first . . . Regan, Cami, Lily, Max, Alex, and I sat up on the ramps over at the skatepark for two freaking hours before the guys finally showed up. (Well, Max and Ally weren'y actually waiting for them; just kind of waiting with us.) Max just talked about how much he loves Connie Mailla (no, he literally goes around telling people he loves her), and how hot he is, and "joking" about how he would never date me because I'm so "below" him. Well, I got news for you, Maxie: that, my friend, is what she said.   Bobbie and I love to say "that's what she said" when no guys are around, because all we ever get from them is, You two don't even know what that means! Well, thanks to you boys, saying it every five seconds (and Michael from "The Office") we know exactly what it means.

We also enjoyed sliding down the ramps on our butts for a few minutes, while we listened to this guy (we call him Shrimpy because he's thirteen and he looks like he's about eight) and his "potty-mouth", as we girl like to refer to it, because it makes them feel stupid. I'm not kidding, though: every thing that comes out of that kid's mouth is F-ing this and F-ing that. I don't care if you say dammit and shit and hell a couple times, but God, even that's a little much for me. I just don't like it went guys swear simply because they think it's cool. I think (and I said to Cami) that guys think it's appealing to girls when they swear a lot. But what they don't realize is that, for most girls, it's actually a major turn-off. At least, for me it is.

When the hot skaters in tight jeans finally showed up Regan flipped out because they were smoking pot. I mean, it's not like we were doing it (that's what she said); we were just watching. (It was really hot out today, so they were all taking their shirts off.) Cami and I are like, We hit the jackpot today! And Regan's, like, covering her eyes.

I begged Max to ask this guy (he reminded me of Seth Riley a little) his name, but he wouldn't do it. He's probably just scared because he's about a third of the size of those guys --- and those guys weigh like six pounds!

The highlight of the day was when I thoroughly pissed Max off because I said nasty things about Connie. In the past, I've been really good about staying innocent in this whole situation, and not saying anything she and Annilee could hold against me. But dammit, she wasn't there today, and I had some things I needed to say.

I almost "Schruted it", as we "Office" finatics say, but I caught myself: So help me God, when Max was talking about how hot he is, you have no idea how bad I wanted to say, "Well, you must not be that hot if the only slut --- I mean, girl --- you can get is Connie Mailla." But alas, I couldn't bring myself to say that, for I knew he would simply run and tell her.

He begged us girls all day to let him text her just once (his parents don't believe in cell phones or some bullshit like that), but none of us would let him. I did manage to thoroughly piss him off by imitating what he'd say (this was all said in a very desperate-sounding voice): "D3@r C0nn13, my luv. 1'm wr1t1ng th1$ 2 u bc@u$e3 I f3@r I c@nn0t g0 @n0th3r d@y w/o $331ng ur b3@ut1ful f@c3. 1 m1$$ u $0 v3ry much th@t 1'm @fr@1d I m1ght d13. Pl3@se3 wr1t3 m3 $00n, my d@rl1ng. W1th luv (@nd sum Xes @nd Oes @nd @ f3w smil3y f@c3s$) ur M@x13-P00."

Every one but Max pretty much died laughing at this; he simply put on his manly voice and said, "Maybe you're just jealous, Charlotte."

And, of course, I had to shoot back at him in my snootiest voice, "Jealous? What is there to be jealous of, Max?"

There was also this other time (hence the title) when I was in his way, he asked me to move, I refused, he sat on me, I screamed and knocked him off of me, and he said, all proud-like,  "Connie wouldn't do that."

And, once again, of course I had to shoot back at him in an even snootier voice, "Well, look at her."

This really pissed him off, but I don't regret saying it. I probably said some things I shouldn't have said today (there were a lot, so I won't repeat all of them), but I've said it before and I'll say it again: I had some things I needed to say, and to make clear to a few people. And as Spongbob, from "The Spongbob Movie", would say, "I think I made my point."

Well, that's all for now.

Today has left me thoroughly satisfied. That's what she said.

Okay, yeah, I set that one up.

Take care.

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is Wednesday, May 28, 2008.

This is Entry Number 55.

Every year, after the huge end-of-year bash at SPA, Regan, Lily and I always go somewhere. No Max, no Ryan, no Josh, no anyone: it's strictly a girls night out. This year, instead of going somewhere right away, Re and I swiped some sprinkles from the desert table and entertained ourselves for an our by pouring some sprinkles into the lid of the container, licking our lips, and touching our mouths to the sprinkles, so they would stick to our lips and give us sprinkle mustaches. Now, of course, this probably sounds like a very childish thing to do, and it was. But it was also hilarious.

We then did cartwheels down the hill on the side of the school for fifteen minutes. Before we left, we remembered we needed to go inside and check to see if our papers were still there. Like, eight years ago, Regan, Lily and I started writing down all of our inside jokes. At the end of each year, we would write them all down on one sheet of paper, decorate the paper, and hide it somewhere in the school. As a result of this, we now have eight papers hidden in eight different places in the school. And at the end of each year, we always check to make sure they are all still there. And if one appears to have been disturbed, we find a new place for it. Well, everyone's usually gone by the time we're ready to check. But this year the Wicked Witch of SPA (the French teacher, Mrs. Ellen Su) was still in the office.

When we walked in to find the door through which we must pass to get to all of the places where the papers are hidden locked, the only other way was through the office. Well, this is usually the case, which was usually fine. But this year Mrs. Su was still in there and totally through off our plan.

So, being the clever Harvard-bound that I am, I walked in all casually, and said, "Hello Mrs. Su. Re thinks she left something in the back room. Is it all right if we go check and see if it's there?"

She gives me that ral suspicious look before nodding, and saying, "Yes, that's fine."

"Sure," Re says, once we're out of the office. "Give her my name!"

"If you'll quick talking and shhsh," I say, "we can look around for the papers, and get out of here before she finds out what we're really doing."

Re shhshes, and we look around and find all of the hidden papers, before making our escape.

We then decided to go to Charly's, this diner-like place near SPA. Being the immature teenagers that we are, Regan, Lily, and I went up, after we were seated, and asked for coloring sheets and crayons. We then did the word-searches on the papers and colored in all the pictures.

After the server came over, took our drink orders, and left, Re says, "Oh my God, my Aunt knows that guy. His name's . . . Well, I don't remember what his name is, but I'm pretty sure that's him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, because he didn't charge us."

"I dare you to ask him if he knows her," I say.

"You dare me?" she says. "What are you, like nine?"

"Hey, if you're too scared, don't do it. I'm just thinking free drinks, here."

She rolls her eyes at me, and when the guy comes back, she says, "Oh, and my cousin really like this place", as if we'd been having a conversation about it or something.

I give her the evil-eye before saying, "Wait, which cousin is this?"

"Crissy. Crissy Maxwell."

But the guy doesn't say anything; just walks away.

"Dammit," Re says. "I swear to God, that's him."

"Re, if you can't do it, fine. Just quit stalling."

When the guy comes back, right before he walks away, she says, "Excuse me. Do you happen to know Crissy Maxwell?"

He thinks for a minute before saying, "No. I don't think so."

I spit Coke all over myself and the table in front of me.

Re then explains how he might know her, and that she was just in here with Crissy a few days ago before the guy says, "Does she go by CC?"

"YES!" Re says, practically hugging he guy.

"Yeah, yeah, I know her," he says before walking away, kinda weired out.

"I hate you," Re says while I laugh my head off.

A few minutes later we decide to go to the bathroom. (Girls always go to the bathroom together, for some reason that I'm not aware of. I think it's just a girl thing.) When we came back, Mother said she needed to go. While she was gone guy comes over and says to us, "Your mom said you guys didn't want rolls, is that true?"

Re just about dies; I say, "Umm . . . did she? Well, we would . . ."

He smiles, says "okay," and walks away.

"Oh. My. God," Re says.

"What a flirt," Lily says.

"I wonder which one of us is the unlucky lady," I say, because this was not a good-looking guy.

After we'd eaten and he brings out the check. "I guess we're gonna get charged anyway," I say.

"Oh my God," Mother says, "he didn't charge us for drinks!"

Re, Lily, and I all screamed. It was hilarious. Probably not too hilarious for the people sitting near us, who were trying to enjoy theirs meals, though. Oh yeah, and there was also a guy in a skirt. Yep, we don't know why he was wearing a skirt, but he was. So that was pretty funny.

We then went to the grocery store, went to the bathroom, and tried on glasses while Mother got us ice cream. After that we went home and watched Lily threaten to kill her animals on Zoo Tycoon if they didn't stop getting out of theirs cages while we ate our ice cream until like midnight.

So it was a fun last day of school.

That's all.

Take care.

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is Saturday, May 24, 2008.

This is Entry Number 54.

For eight months now, I've been bitching about how much I hated SPA. I dreaded every day I had to go there, and even tried to make myself sick sometimes so that I wouldn't have to go. But now that it's all over, I can't believe how much I miss it. I mean, I could still go back, and I keep telling my mother that I'll think about it, but I know in my heart that I don't really want to; it's simply not worth it. I did have a really great time last night, though, and I'll get to that in a second.

But first I would like to inform every one that, in the next week or two, I'll be in the Witness Protection Program. Well, no, not really, but it seems like we should be. Evidently, a few days ago, a boxer puppy ran by our house. So Lily ran outside to try and catch him and see if he had a collar on so she could see where he lived. Well, I guess she chased him all the way down the street and around the corner. When she reached the end of that street a white van pulled up and a man got out of the car and took off after the dog. Now, I usually wouldn't specify this because I would see no need to, but it does play a part in the story: he was a black man. So, according to Lily, and no one sees any reason why she would lie about this, the man grabbed the dog and started kicking the living shit out of it. She she took off back toward home and told Mother what happened. Well, Mother just about dies when she sees something like that, so she informs me (I was in the shower) that she and Lily were going out to try and find this van and get a lisence plate number. Well, evidently, Mother and Lily drove around forever, but finally found the van parked in a driveway two roads away. Now, again I wouldn't typically specify this, but considering it's part of the story I'll say it: they saw three black children playing a driveway and the white van parked beside them.

Well, Mother, beind the genius Columbia-graduate that she is, came up with this whole act and said, "Do you guys have a dog?"

And, according to Mother, they said, "Yes."

She then asked them, "What kind is it?"

And they said, "A boxer."

She then said, "Oh, well, where do you guys live?"

And she said they were real young kids, so they didn't know any better than to just point right to their house. So she took down the address and said, "All right, thanks. We just wanted to make sure your dog got home all right." 

She then came home and called the dog warden. Well, he was supposed to go and talk to the man and call Mother on Monday while we were at SPAAC. But when we pulled into our neighborhood on our way home, we saw a dog warden's car parked off to the side of the road. Mother stopped and told him who she was. Another car needed to get by, so Mother pulled over to the other side of the road and he walked over to tell her what happened.

He said that this man said that this is simply racial profiling (which it certainly wasn't; this had nothing to do with the man's skin color) and he didn't want to hear it. So the dog warden said he was sorry to do so, but advised Mother not to persue it in court; she agreed. Well, while he was talking, a white van pulled around the corner. I knew right away it was the guy.

So we're pretty much in hiding right now. We never park the van in the garage because there's always stuff in the way, but the second we pulled in the driveway, Mother, Lily and I jumped out and started making room so we could pull the van in.

So there's my fun-fact.

A few weeks ago the Max's family got some fancy DVR thing. I'm not real sure what it is, but he will not shut up about how awesome it is, and is always talking about these stupid MTV "Top Ten Blah-Blah-Blah" shows that he watches. Well, evidently, he also gets a channel now that's all music. Well, last week, I guess, my all-time favorite band, the White Stripes, performed on this show, and Max taped it since he's a little bit into the Stipes, too. He then made a little deal with me: he said that he would burn the Stripes' performance on a DVD and give it to me. Well, there was a catch: I had to be nice to him all day on Friday. He thinks otherwise, but I know for a fact that I'm always nice to him, so it really wasn't that hard (that's what she said; I would like to dedicate that "that's what she said" to Max, because he would be so very proud of me), but I acted like it was.

Math class was miserable. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love math, I kick ass at math, but we had to do all this stupid stuff with partners. Uhh, I was paired up with this really quiet kid that I've known for three years and only heard speak like four times. So he wasn't any help at all, and I ended up doing all of this stupid algerbra all by my-freaking-self.

Sam's class wasn't that bad because it was the last day and I didn't mind not doing anything. Jason Thom is still absolutely in love with either Regan or me, we still can't figure out which, because she says it's me, and I say it's her, because neither of us want to be it, because Jason Thom is freaking psycho-stalker. He's constantly calling, texting, Facebook'ing, MySpace'ing, and E-mailing Re and me. I mean, he will not leave us alone. We avoid him like the plague; we see him coming in the hallway and we run the other way. I mean, if we're trapped between the creepy tech guy and Jason, we go and hang out with creepy tech guy, just to get away from Jason. It's awful. Anyway, I've promised I would come see Jason in some musical he's going to be in.

I don't even want to talk about my other classes; it's just too painful. After school let out and it was time for the party, Max finally gave me my DVD. He was probably hoping I'd kiss him and take him back or something, but I just gave him a huge hug and said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I also flashed my DVD around a lot making it clear that the Stripes were on it because Seth Riley the Gorgeous was walking around and he likes the Stripes, I think, and I was thinking maybe we'd strike up a conversation. We didn't.

And to make matters worse I found out from (guess who) Jason that, like me, Seth isn't coming back next year. I just about fell to the ground and cried. I mean, I'm not going either, but I'm still going to come back and visit and come to all the functions and stuff, and I thought for sure I'd see him in the plays and at the events and stuff, but I guess not. I mean, Friday could have been the last day I'll ever see Seth Riley the Gorgeous. I keep telling myself, Don't worry; some other adorable guy will come along (and maybe this one will be just as head-over-heals for you as you are for them) and you'll be totally in love with him. But I kinda think Seth Riley is one-of-a-kind. I mean, how many guys can actually pull off the "emo" look without looking like a poser? Correct: no one. Seth Riley was the real deal, and now I'll freaking never see him again! Wahh!

I'll talk about the rest tomorrow, for I am rather tired of typing.

Buh-bye.

Charlotte

Dear Fabulous Friends and Readers,

Today is Monday, May 19, 2008.

This is Entry Number 53.

Today was the last day of advanced classes for SPA. (Thank God!) It was also the day a small memorial service was taking place for Ezrah "Ezzie" Grant, a girl to whom Regan and I were extremely close, and that used to attend, who was in an accident and died over the summer this past year. I'd known the memorial was going to take place on the last day since the beginning of the year, but I still managed to bawl my eyes out in front of a hundred people. Thanks to events that took place today, I have a new-found respect for Ryan Izzy-Deveaux. I mean, I have to brag here and say that I've always known that, deep down, Ryan is such a super-cool guy, who simply has some issues in dealing with social situations. This issues do happen to include making life hell for Max, but, considering I've not been too happy with Max lately, it has been becoming easier and easier to over-look that.

Two weeks ago Regan informed me that, in her Body Science class, something in which I chose not to participate, Mrs. Vonne would be conducted a "girls only" class. Unfortunely for the guys who thought they had gotten out of sex-ed, one of Mrs. Vonne's "guy-doctor friends" would be coming and conducting a little class of his own for the guys. Holy shit, you should have seen the look on Max's face. He just about died; that kind of stuff just totally freaks him out. Except when he's making jokes about it, I suppose.

When Connnie Mailla saw my hair she just about died. She comes running up to me, just about having a heart-attack, screaming, "Charlotte! Charlotte! Oh, Charlotte, you got your hair cut! It looks sosososo nice! Ah! I just love it! See ya, Charlotte! Bye!" That whole sentence took about a second to say, for she said it so quickly that it sounded like one word spoken in jibberish. But that, my friends, is Connie for you. Oh yeah, I'm not kidding, we're like best friends now. She just about goes into shock everytime she sees me, hugging me and all. And, dammit, do you know why she does it? I'll bet you the second Annilee hung up the phone with my mother, the day she called to "get some things out in the open" about the way Connie had been treating me for no appearent reason, Annilee probably ran right up to Connie's room (where she was probably smoking pot or something with that creepy friend of hers, Evan, who's actually a girl with a guy's name), and said, "Listen here, Connie. Charlotte Keep and her mother (who, by the way, are both smarter, prettier, and more sane than we'll ever be)" --- okay, that part's just my imagination --- "are starting to catch on that our lives aren't as perfect as we pretend they are. So the next time you see Charlotte and her mother, you need to go back to being your phony, pathetic self, all right? High-five, girlfriend! Let's go to Starbucks!"

And do you know what the saddest part is? That conversation that I just totally and completely made up is probably almost exactly what Annilee actually said to her, excluding the part about my mother and me being "smarter, prettier, and more sane then they'll ever be," but including the part about the high-five and Starbucks thing. (Annilee's always trying to be cool and give high-fives. And she and Connie both love Starbucks; for that, I don't blame them.)

We then went out in the tennis court and screwed around with Conor Mailla. And you know what? I just have to say it again: Conor Mailla is a freaking idiot. He is. You know, I would still love going to school if it weren't for three people: Anilee, Conor, and Connie Mailla. After they'd all made every repulsive joke they could about Max simply using the word "popsicle" --- yes, this included, "So that's what you call it now, Max?" --- we all went out to the field and did --- believe it or not --- the exact same thing. And you know, it's so ironic because Regan has been getting really fed-up with Ryan lately. But, being the naive little innnocent that she is (but I still lover her to death), she, like every single freaking other person, doesn't see that Ryan is the only sane one in the group. He actually has values! And it just drives me crazy how everything gets pinned on him.

But you know what I realized? All right, you know how I talked about how, when he's around all the guys, Ryan is all "badass"? But when it's just him and me, or him, me, and Regan, he is the absolute coolest guy I've ever met (with the exception of Seth Riley, I guess)? And I said that I honestly believe that he just doesn't know how to deal with social situations, and that a lot of this stuff has been pinned on him that wasn't his fault? Well, I realized something: Ryan Izzy-Deveaux is the only one in this group who Annilee Mailla has a real problem with and, when needs to blame something on someone, she blames it on Ryan. Well, I realized something else: it seems odd that Annilee would single out Ryan, right? Wrong! I firmly believe that Annilee has singled out Ryan because I know for a fact that Ryan is the only one of us who, with the exception of me now, has ever outwardly expressed a dislike for her daughter. I told my mother this and she said to me, "Charlotte, I think that's exactly what's happened."

Once we were finished screwed around, which included all of the guys picking me up so they could see who was the strongest, it was time to go to this Body Science thing. I decided to sit in on it because Re thought I would enjoy it. Why she thought I would enjoy sex-ed, I had no idea. But I had nothing better to do than sit with Max and Ryan, and Ryan's no fun when Max is around, so I just went to sex-ed with Regan.

Well, we're about halfway into it that it hits me: Regan, Regan, Regan, bless your little heart. This isn't sex-ed; this is simply female anatomy. We simply talked about getting your first period --- something I'm sure we'd all already experienced --- and girl stuff like that. Well, I'd say the best part of the class was when we heard rocks hitting the window, and looked down to see Max and Ryan hiding behind one of the pillars, and chucking mulch and rocks.

Our suloution? Mrs. Vonne flipped the page of the book she was using to "guy stuff" and pressed it against the window. Holy shit, you should have seen how fast Max and Ryan took off running the other way. It was hi-larious! About ten minutes later, we began to hear what sounded like uncontrolable laughter coming from the other side of the door. Upon opening the aforementioned door, we found Ryan and Max lying on the floor, laughing their heads off, with looks on their  faces that appeared a mix of humor and complete terror. Of course, being the smart one that I am, I suggested we invite them to come and sit with us. And bless their little hearts, they both came in and sat in the empty seats behind Re and me.

"So you're our new students, Maxine and Riley, right?" Mrs. Vonne said to Max and Ryan.

"Yes," they both said, playing along.

"So when did you get your period, Riley?" Mrs. Vonne asked Ryan. (We were all pretty much rolling on the floor laughing at that point.)

"Uhhh . . . yesterday?" "Riley" said, glancing at "Maxine."

"Yes, but when did you get it for the first time?" Mrs Vonne asked.

"Uhhh . . ., " Ryan said again, "the . . . day before?"

Highlights of the class were Molly asking what tampons were, and Mrs. Vonne having to explain it with Ryan and Max in the room. She told them they probably didn't want to hear this part (though I'm sure they already knew) and that they'd probably want to leave. They both opted to stay, and I'm sure are now regretting it. 

Dear Friends and Readers,

Today is Saturday, May 17, 2008.

This is Entry Number 52.

When I went with Mother to pick up Lily and Liam at school on Wednesday, all of my boyfriends loved my hair. (Yes, even Max said something positive, for once.) When I first got there, Rebecca Shee, Cady Thompson, and Brittan Neal were standing at the end of the sidewalk, talking. When I got out of the car, Becca glanced in my direction, looked back at Cady and Brittan, and whirled back around and screamed, running toward me.

"You cut it all off! You cut it all off!" she kept yelling, messing up my hair.

We walked over to Cady and Brittan so that everyone could mess up my hair a little more. They all told me how "fabulous" it looked before I began the long walk down the student-covered sidewalk toward the huge brick building that is Sevael Private Academy. I mean, we have to show freaking identification cards just to get in and out of the place.

As I neared the building the absolute last person I wanted to see and the first person I knew fate would cause me to run into came scampering out the door, struttin' around in his ice cream suit like he owned the goddamn place (that was from An Officer and a Gentleman, by the way, and Mother and I say that all the time): Jason Thoms. Now that I think about it, I don't remember if it's Jason or Jayson. I can never remember whether it Thoms or Thom, but I'm almost positive it's Jason. Anywho, he comes up and just stares at me.

"Hey Jason. What's up --- ?"

And that's about as far as I got before Jason screamed, delighted, "You got your haircut, Miss Charlotte!" (I cannot figure out why he calls me that. That's a teacher thing.)

"Yep," I said, trying to push past him.

"It looks so good!"

"Thanks, Jason."

"You're welcome!" And he skips off down the sidewalk. Okay, he didn't skip, but that's how I pictured it, and it was not pretty, let me tell you.

When I reached the door, Josh Adams came out and told me it looked "really good." But those two were nothing compared to what happened next: pretty much everyone in the school came running up to me. After I'd been petted for about two minutes staight, Regan and Bobbie just stood there and started at me for a minute, before jumping up and down, screaming, "Charlotte, you're so pretty!"

And, of course, I said, "Uhh, and before I looked . . . ?"

But the highlight of the day was definitely Max. I was standing at the end of the hallway by Mrs. Jean's room, and I heard someone coming down the hallway. When I turned around and Max saw it was me, you should have seen the look on his face.

"Wow," is all he said.

"Ya like?" I said.

"Yeah, it looks really, really nice, Charlotte."

I was sort of hoping that he would throw himself on his knees and plead for my forgiveness and that I would take him back, just so that I could have the satifaction of saying, "Yes, I forgive you Max; no, I will not take you back." But alas, he just walked me out to the car and said how glad he was that I was feeling better about things. I still cannot figure out how he knows this things. Because I have been feeling just a little better about things, but I'd not told Max this. I think he can just read me really well; we've been friends a long time, and you get that way about people you've known a while, you know?

Bobbie and I talked a lot about this situation with Connie Mailla on Friday, yesterday. She's been through the same thing with her, and it really helped me to know that it's not my issue, but purely Connie's. It was almost unreal how the situations Bobbie had experienced with Connie mirrored those I have described to both Regan and my mother. But more than anything it just makes me feel betterto know that I'm not making all of this up about Connie. This is real, and it's not my fault.

It started when Max wanted to ask me something about the situation, but ended up wandering off. I was a little disappointed at first, because I really thought Max was going to let the whole thing go. But it ended up being okay because I got the discuss (not gossip about) the situation with Bobbie.

We decided to go for a walk in Mr. Paige's class. We walked down in the grass behind the school, so Max ended up carrying me most of the way. But he didn't really carry me; it was more like being flung over his shoulder and dragged.

Take care.

Charlotte

Dear Wonderful Friends and Readers,

Today is Wednesday, May 14, 2008.

This is Entry Number 51.

About four or five months ago, I would say, I chopped about eight inches off of my hair. Sick of it being down my waist (I know, it's insane), I just woke up one morning and said, "Mother, get in the car; we're choppin' all this hair off!" After roughly eight inches were gone, I was so happy with it. But I still didn't really have a style to it. So last night I went to this new place quite close to where I live and got it cut to about a half-inch below my shoulders. I also got these really cute bangs. With the bangs, I'm sort of getting a Hayley Williams of Paramore vibe; but the whole shebang looks very Britney in the "Baby One More Time" era. You know, before she was a mess and all.

So anywho, Mother and Daddy went hiking again. I would go with them, but I simply can't give up having a day all to myself. So I, once again, opted to stay home. But Mother is going to stop by before picking up Lily and Liam at school, drop off Daddy and pick up me so I can show Regan and Bobbie my hair. Maybe Max will be there and see what he's missing . . .

God, I really need to stop thinking that way, don't I? I just feel so resentful toward Connie for screwing everything up. I mean, things were going so good and then she had to decide that she wasn't getting enough attention and make it hell for Re and me. I mean, I know she has social and emotional issues, but the thing that just makes me sick to my stomach is that her mother, Annilee, will do nothing about it. Connie needs help and she's not getting any. But anywho, I don't really want to start talking about this right now.

I ditched again on Monday because I just couldn't take it. Max is just driving me crazy and I just didn't feel like dealing with him. But Mother really wants me to go to the party next week, just because it's the last day. I guess I'm going to go and just hang out with Re and Allie.

Hmm . . . what else? I mean, I guess that's it.

Take care.

Charlotte

Dear Friends,

Today is Friday, May 9, 2008.

This is Entry Number 50.

Regan and I went to see SPA's production of "Our Town" this evening. As I believe I mentioned before, my aunt bought me this wonderful little dress that I've been dying to wear forever, and what better time to wear it: I'm officially finished with Max and I get to sit in a room with Seth Riley for two hours. How perfect, right? But I also thought, perhaps, I would look a bit over dresed in my fancy getup, so I begged Regan to go out and buy a dress, just so that I wouldn't look like a complete dork.

School was the same as it is every day: pointless. And that's so unlike me to say, because I'm Miss Charlotte Harvard-Bound (Hopefully) Keep, and I never hated school. Ever. Until this year, that is. People started acting stupid. Perhaps I shouldn't have let them bump me ahead. (Being only thirteen I should still be in the eighth grade, but the damn teachers saw some stupid potential in me and sent me to high school.) It's that different from seventh grade, though. Just a lot more stupid people, sexual referrences, and "that's what she saids." But I'm hanging in there.

I think, for the time being, Max and I are pretty much good. Believe or not, I sat on his lap throughout our entire history class. Now I know what you're thinking: Charlotte! I thought you were finished with him? But here's the dealio: Yes, I don't want Max to be my boyfriend anymore. I'm sick of having him around all the time, reminding me of it. And I still think he can be a complete idiot. But that doesn't mean there's still a little part of me that can't let go, and wishes we were still best friends like in the good old days of middle school. So it wasn't like a boyfriend-girlfriend thing; more of a suck-on-that-Charlotte-Wite kind of thing, because she's completely in love with him. (Talk about "that's what she said.")

I got home today at four o'clock as usual, so I had two hours to get ready for the play. Well, I decided to for the Taylor Swift look, as I did that Monday when I thought things were going to be cool with Connie Mailla. (Someone whom I don't wish to speak of now, since I'm still happy from tonight.) Now, as I've mentioned before, I have very, very thick hair. I mean, like, it weights down my head. So by six o'clock (the time at which we were supposed to be walking out the door) I was still doing my make-up. (I don't usually wear anything other than mascara because of my stupid blonde eyelashes, but it was a special night, and I wanted to look purdy.)

So after getting lost once we pull into the parking lot twenty-five minutes after the play started. Now I was just about ready to cry by then. The one time I get to see Seth Riley without Max breathing down my neck, I miss a third of it. But I just about cried even more when we finally made it inside. We got seats right in the back, of course, but I had a perfect view of the only reason I was even there.

I, to this moment, have absolutely no clue what that play was about. I think even if I hadn't been late, I still wouldn't have followed it, because there was this new chick that I've not seen in the plays in the past who had this really weird, deep voice and I couldn't understand I word she said. And that damn traitor Laurel Smith has such a soft voice that I couldn't hair anything she said. But I just have to say, he was totally the best in the play. That's one of the only things most people actually do like about Seth Riley: he is a damn good actor. He really gets into it, you know?

I was ready to close my eyes afterwards when he would probably snatch up Charlotte Hanna and they'd start making-out, but that never happened, and for that I was grateful. After the play was over, Regan and I just followed him through the building. We even walked all the way down to the guys bathroom and waited outside, pretending to be looking for Bobbie (who wasn't even there) the whole time.

After that we went out and played in the dark parking lot for a while, Regan, Lily and I. We all had on our pretty dresses so we were making up a dance while we waited for somoene to come and pick us up and take us to get something to eat.

While we were walking out Regan says, "Charlotte, you're my best friend; you're like my sister. And I just need to say something: I didn't understand anything in that play."

"Don't worry, Re, I didn't either. And yet . . . I enjoyed it."

She smacked me good because she knew exactly what I meant.

Once I was home I washed the half-bottle of hairspray out of my hair, made some mac-n-cheese, peeled some clementines, poured some "decaf" root beer and Lily and I made copies of the programs for the play so that I could draw hearts around Seth Riley and give Charlotte Hanna devil horns without ruining my precious real program. (I grabbed two, just in case.) Ultimately, I decided devil horns just were not enough for Charlotte, so I ended up just scribbling out her face and doodling on the rest of their faces until I kicked Lily out about fifteen minutes ago so I could give you all a play-by-play of my evening.

So that's all. The whole fam-damily's headed to my grandmother's house tomorrow to celebrate Mother's Day, so I'm considering wearing my dress to that, also. My grandmother "loves to see me in a dress" because I have "such good legs." And that, my friends, is a direct quote from my seventy-two-year-old grandmother. I'm just looking forward to the look on Mother's face when she sees the gift that my aunt always buys  Lily, Liam and me to give to her. What is this look? A look of knowingness.

Hugs and take care.

Charlotte

Dear Lovely Readers,

Today is Thursday, May 8, 2008.

This is Entry Number 49.

Although I agree with those who are saying he was beginning to sound a bit predictable, I must say that I was terribly sad to see Jason Castro leave "American Idol" last night. He is such a unique performer, and has such talent, and I must add that he was simply adorable. But I don't really think "American Idol" was Jason's thing; I think he'll do all right, even without winning. Speaking of winning, I really think my guy David Cook is going to do it. He's my favorite from since the beginning of the whole show. Yes, it came on when I was like six, so I don't quite remember the days of Kelly Clarkson, but I'm not that fond of her, so I feel all right saying that rocker David is my all-time favorite in "American Idol" history.

Since I think it's mostly if not wholly ladies reading my blog, I can use code and say that it "my time of the month." So I tossed and turned all night last night until eleven o'clock, having cramps like you wouldn't believe. I finally got up and took some motrin at one in the morning and went right to sleep. Of course I then woke up at five o'clock. Well, since I am merely a child, I feel all right admitting that I'm not all that fond of lying in my dark bedroom all alone at five in the morning, so I turned the radio on, hoping it would distract me from my thoughts of the mothman from the movie "The Mothman Prophecies." Well, being delerious with stomach pain, I forgot to reset my alarm and ended up sleeping until eleven.  So I'm really off track today. I've been lying around bitching and moaning for the past two days and things were just getting of control, and I simply cannot function when things are messy, so I spent most of the day cleaning. Whenever an adult sees my room, they always tell I'm the weirdest teenager they've ever seen. My room is spotless. It's not an obsessive compulsive thing (to a certain degree), it's more just the fact that I cannot function with crap laying all over the place. So I picked up the clothes off the floor, vaccuumed, dusted, cleaned the windows and mirrors, did laundry, the whole shootin' shabang. As a result of this, I feel a little better.

Even though I clean like one of those obsessive mothers who only has one kid, I am still a teenage girl and have to make a teenage girl confession: There is a play at SPA tomorrow and someone that I've been stalking for a while now will be performing in it. All right, yeah, I'm talking about the fabulously gorgeous, gorgeously fabulous Seth Riley. So my aunt recently bought me this gorgeous knee-length pink dress with dark pink flowers on it. And I'm going to wear it to the play. But I don't want to look under dressed, so I made Re buy a dress just for tomorrow night. I think Lily's going to wear a dress, too. I'm also going to do the whole Taylor Swift look again with my hair. I'm sure we're all going to look stupid, but at least we'll feel purdiful.

As most of you probably know by now, I am a huge fan of Panic at the Disco. I just about had a heart-attack when I found out that they were the musical guest on "Saturday Night Live" a month or two ago. I taped it, and I've watched it like a billion times since then.  Well, they'll be performing on "Letterman" tonight, so Lily and I are going to stay up until midnight or whenever they perform and watch it. I'm terrified I'm going to forget to tape it. Yes, for an obsessive fan-girl, that would be the end of the world.

So I think I've thoroughly pissed Max off. Again. I pretty much lost it with him on Monday and said some things about Connie Mailla that I shouldn't have. But he just cannot let it go. And the most difficult part is that he catches me at the worst possible moment and corners me. Like, I'll be sitting there in History, trying to take notes and he'll just blurt out, "Why do you hate Connie so bad?" And I'm just sick of it. So we're sitting there on Monday and he hits me with it: "Will you tell me what the deal is now?"

I think Re knew that I've had it with him, so she casually leads Allie and Cami away.

"All right, Max," I said. "I'm going to talk to you about this not because I want to talk about it --- I don't --- but because I can see how heavily this is weighing on your mind."

He nodded and sat down beside me.

"All right, " I said agian. "I want to preface this with this: I love you to death, Max, I really do. You're a great guy and you're fun and you're just . . . a good guy, okay? But . . . I don't 'like' you. That's all there is to it." I'm big on air-quotes, in case you've not noticed.

He almost looked hurt at first but then just nodded, sighed, and said, "I know that."

"But Max, Connie does. Connie is head-over-heels in love with you."

He just looked at me.

"And you like her."

He kept looking at me.

"Don't you?"

He nods. "Is that why you don't like her?"

"No!" I think I scared him because I just about whacked him in the head jumping up and flinging my arms in the air. "That's not it at all."

"But you don't like her."

I hesitated, not knowing how to put it. "No. I don't."

"Why?"

And that's when I lost it. "Because Connine Mailla is a phony. She is the biggest phony I have ever seen in my entire life. And I cannot stand to be around someone like that. Do you understand that, Max?"

He nodded, but he didn't mean it.

"Are we good now?"

He didn't say anything.

"I don't like her, Max, I don't. But that doesn't mean you can't. Okay?"

He nodded and walked away.

I didn't see him much after that, but I talked to him later on and he just seemed a little sad. I feel bad if I upset him, but he just needs to suck it up and be a man about it! I don't like his girlfriend; I can't stand her. And if he can't get that through that warped mind of his, then I guess I have no use for him. Max is different, ever since he started hanging out with Connie, and I just don't really want to have anything to do with him anymore. I mean, if he wants to say hi to me as we pass in the corriders and hug me when I leave, fine. But I'm not going to make an effort to hang out with him anymore. I've given up on him.

Maybe my Ryan Ross will come along someday, but right now I think I'm all right just hanging out with Regan and Lily. I don't mean to be all "oh, I'm too good, I don't need boys." Boys are great inventions, they really all. They can be fun, and smart, and absolutely gorgeous (hence Seth Riley); but sadly they can also be idiots. And if the only guys I can find are just that, then I'm going to stick with my girl-friends until the real deal comes along.

So that's my thing.

Take care, all.

Charlotte

Dear Lovely Friends and Readers,

Today is Wednesday, May 7, 2008.

This is Entry Number 48.

Well, my friends, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a slight chance of A) indifference or B) dissinterest in what the critics say. Actually, it's just cloudy, but I'm listening to Panic at the Disco, and that is a part in one of their songs, and since I am a complete dork, I have been wanting to say that for years.

Anyway, wow, this is totally insane. I have so much to talk about, and so little time to talk about it! Liam stayed home from school today because he is "ill." Also known as "lazy" and "unwilling to go to school." Which means I don't get the house to myself for a few hours while Mother's out doing whatever mothers do after dropping their children (well, child, today) off at school.

So I suppose I'll start with a exciting part: my daddy is taking Lily and me to the Raconteurs concert at Riverbend in Ohio! Oh my God, you have no idea how totally and completely stoked I am! I want you to imagine that you are the most obsessive Jack White stalker in this whole entire world. Are you imagining it? Well, multiply it by a kabillion and you're about a kabillion miles behind me. To make a long story short, I WORSHIP JACK WHITE. And although I prefer the White Stripes (Jack White's other band of eleven years) to the Raconteurs, it's Jack White, people! You just can't go wrong. I guess Daddy knows someone up there in Ohio that he used to play music with like fifteen years ago when he was twenty. And (drum roll, please) PANIC AT THE FREAKING DISCO is going to be in Columbus, Ohio, around that time, so we're begging him to take us to that, as well. He would probably go to the Raconteurs show, anyway, whether he was taking Lily and me or not, so maybe PATD could count at the one he's taking us to, and we'll just tag along to the Raconteurs. Because I do have to say, although amazing cannot even come close to describing Jack White, Brendon Urie of PATD can kick Jack's ass live.

In other news I've been harassed by Colbie Whathislastname again. He does it to everybody and he's completely joking but it still makes me uncomfortable.