Status: Updates every four days.
We Way? Three Way!
Hormones
“Becca!” I shouted from my changing room. “They’re too small!”
“Your boobs?” She answered, not wanting to come in due to the whole trying-on-bras thing.
“No! The bras! I swear I’m not more than a C! Boobs make hugging people awkward!”
“Get over yourself! Find something that fits and lets get out of here! I want ice cream!”
I grabbed a few things with zippers on them and figured they’d fit me well enough. I hate having a girlish body. I can’t hide it with anything.
“Okay, who’s got money?” Natalie asked when it was almost our turn at the register. She turned to Becca, who shrugged and looked back at Natalie, who also shrugged.
“I swiped Padre’s credit card. It’s all good.” I said, holding up a magical piece of plastic that doubled as money. When the lady (who smelled a lot like cigarettes) rang us up we were all wondering how much we actually spent. We didn’t really look at prices.
“Your total is $218.72.” She said apathetically. I payed and took the bags.
“We just spent $218 on underwear.” Natalie said. “Gerard’s gonna kill us.”
“Nah. I’ll get Frank to cover. He still can’t resist the puppy dog eyes.” I smiled. Now for ice cream time.
"Why has this curse been brought upon our family?" Gerard groaned as Natalie, Becca, and I whined as much as three teenaged girls possibly could. That's quite a lot of whining.
"We're GIRLS that's why! It's your fault for adopting us!" I shouted, throwing a pillow at his face.
“Yeah, but you don’t act like girls most of the time!”
“Too bad! Blood is pouring out of me! Let me lie around in pajamas and eat ice cream and watch gory movies for once!”
“Does this mean you’re not coming to watch us record on MTV?” Frank said, looking a lot like Dr. Frankenstein when he wants to go outside.
“NO! I don’t FEEL like going to New York City tonight!” I said. He looked crestfallen.
“I’m sorry Frankie. Don’t be mad, pweasy pwease?”
“Someone’s a bit hormonal...” Mikey said from the top of the stairs.
“I heard that!” I shouted, running up the stairs but getting trapped by Mommy and Ray.
“Okay, we’re leaving. See you at one, okay? Make sure Brendon doesn’t do anything too reckless and also make sure he’s in bed by eleven. A growing boy needs his rest.” Bob said.
“Hey! I’m not growing!” Brendon shouted from his room.
“You’re 17! You’re not even legal yet!”
“I’m in a band! I’m old enough to do that!”
“Okay, okay. Becca, make sure he eats his vegetables.”
“I don’t like veggies! They’re icky!”
We were almost done barricading Brendon’s door shut when I heard Frankie crying.
“My baby is dead! My poor baby! She was too young to go!” He shouted.
“You have offspring?” I asked, walking in on Ray consoling him. He was crying into a pillow.
“Nah, it’s Pansy.”
“It was the stupid technician! I should’ve never let him touch her.”
“Yeah, he’s got some post-traumatic stress disorder going on. He spazzed out and flung her into a sign.”
“Your boobs?” She answered, not wanting to come in due to the whole trying-on-bras thing.
“No! The bras! I swear I’m not more than a C! Boobs make hugging people awkward!”
“Get over yourself! Find something that fits and lets get out of here! I want ice cream!”
I grabbed a few things with zippers on them and figured they’d fit me well enough. I hate having a girlish body. I can’t hide it with anything.
“Okay, who’s got money?” Natalie asked when it was almost our turn at the register. She turned to Becca, who shrugged and looked back at Natalie, who also shrugged.
“I swiped Padre’s credit card. It’s all good.” I said, holding up a magical piece of plastic that doubled as money. When the lady (who smelled a lot like cigarettes) rang us up we were all wondering how much we actually spent. We didn’t really look at prices.
“Your total is $218.72.” She said apathetically. I payed and took the bags.
“We just spent $218 on underwear.” Natalie said. “Gerard’s gonna kill us.”
“Nah. I’ll get Frank to cover. He still can’t resist the puppy dog eyes.” I smiled. Now for ice cream time.
"Why has this curse been brought upon our family?" Gerard groaned as Natalie, Becca, and I whined as much as three teenaged girls possibly could. That's quite a lot of whining.
"We're GIRLS that's why! It's your fault for adopting us!" I shouted, throwing a pillow at his face.
“Yeah, but you don’t act like girls most of the time!”
“Too bad! Blood is pouring out of me! Let me lie around in pajamas and eat ice cream and watch gory movies for once!”
“Does this mean you’re not coming to watch us record on MTV?” Frank said, looking a lot like Dr. Frankenstein when he wants to go outside.
“NO! I don’t FEEL like going to New York City tonight!” I said. He looked crestfallen.
“I’m sorry Frankie. Don’t be mad, pweasy pwease?”
“Someone’s a bit hormonal...” Mikey said from the top of the stairs.
“I heard that!” I shouted, running up the stairs but getting trapped by Mommy and Ray.
“Okay, we’re leaving. See you at one, okay? Make sure Brendon doesn’t do anything too reckless and also make sure he’s in bed by eleven. A growing boy needs his rest.” Bob said.
“Hey! I’m not growing!” Brendon shouted from his room.
“You’re 17! You’re not even legal yet!”
“I’m in a band! I’m old enough to do that!”
“Okay, okay. Becca, make sure he eats his vegetables.”
“I don’t like veggies! They’re icky!”
We were almost done barricading Brendon’s door shut when I heard Frankie crying.
“My baby is dead! My poor baby! She was too young to go!” He shouted.
“You have offspring?” I asked, walking in on Ray consoling him. He was crying into a pillow.
“Nah, it’s Pansy.”
“It was the stupid technician! I should’ve never let him touch her.”
“Yeah, he’s got some post-traumatic stress disorder going on. He spazzed out and flung her into a sign.”