Tales From a Not-So-Fabulous Life Read online

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4

  My new issue of That’s So Hot! magazine says the secret to happiness is the four Fs:

  Friends, Fun, Fashion & Flirting

  But, unfortunately, the closest I’ve ever gotten to “friends, fun, fashion, and flirting” is having a locker right next to MacKenzie Hollister.

  She’s THE most popular girl in the eighth grade.

  Lucky me!

  I had just finished fighting my way through the crowded hallways to get to my locker and had almost been trampled alive.

  Then, suddenly, as if by magic, the huge mob of students parted right down the center, just like the Red Sea.

  That’s when I first saw MacKenzie strutting down the hallway like it was the runway of a Paris fashion show or something.

  She had blonde hair and blue eyes and was dressed like she had just left a photo shoot for the cover of Teen Vogue.

  And everyone (except me) immediately fell under her powerful hypnotic spell and totally lost their minds.

  “What’s up, MacKenzie!”

  “You look hot, MacKenzie!”

  “Are you coming to my party this weekend, MacKenzie?”

  “Love your shoes, MacKenzie!”

  “Will you marry me, MacKenzie?”

  “You’ll NEVER guess who has a crush on you, MacKenzie!”

  “Is that another designer purse, MacKenzie?”

  “Fabulous hair today, MacKenzie!”

  “I’ll pluck out my eye with a pencil and eat it with a Spam and mustard sandwich IF ONLY you’ll sit with me at lunch today, MacKenzie!”

  Which also proves my theory that there’s ALWAYS at least ONE seriously mentally ill WEIRDO in EVERY middle school across America!

  It was “MacKenzie! MacKenzie! MacKenzie!” When she walked up to the locker right next to mine, I knew then and there I was going to have a VERY bad school year.

  Being so close to the radiance of her awesome yet sickening perfection just made me feel like a humongous LOSER. And it didn’t help that she was HOGGING most of my personal space !!

  Hey, it wasn’t like I was jealous of her or anything. I mean, how totally juvenile would THAT be?!

  Between classes, MacKenzie and her friends are forever standing right in front of MY locker, “GGG-ing.”

  That means:

  GIGGLING, GOSSIPING, AND GLOSSING

  And whenever I get up the nerve to say, “Excuse me, but I really need to get into my locker,” she just ignores me or rolls her eyes and says stuff like, “Annoying much?” or “What’s HER problem?”

  And I’m like, “Hey, girlfriend! I don’t have no STINKIN’ problem!”

  But I just say it inside my head, so no one really hears it except me.

  However, deep down I’m troubled and ashamed that a tiny part of me—a very dark and primitive side—would totally LOVE to be best friends with MacKenzie!

  And I find that part of myself SO disgusting…I could…VOMIT!

  But on a much happier note, I’m really into lip gloss too.

  My favorite one right now is Krazy Kissalicious Strawberry Crush Glitterati.

  It’s yummy and tastes just like strawberry cheesecake.

  Unfortunately, no supercute hunk (like Brandon Roberts, the guy who sits in front of me in my biology class) has developed a huge crush on me and fallen in love with my fabulous glossy lips, like in all of those KRAZY KISSALICIOUS television commercials.

  But, hey! It could happen!

  In the meantime, I’ve decided to try and enjoy my single status.

  Oh, I almost forgot! Dad is supposed to pick me up after school today to take me to my dentist appointment.

  PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE don’t let him pick me up in his work van with the five-foot-long plastic roach on top.

  I would absolutely DIE if anyone found out I only attend this school due to his bug extermination contract!

  !!

  THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 5

  MacKenzie and her snobby friends are about to get on my last nerve! They’re always making NASTY comments about any girl who wanders within six feet of them. I mean, who do they think they are?

  THE FASHION POLICE?!

  Today, in under one minute, MacKenzie gave out the following scathing fashion commentary while applying her lip gloss:

  “Don’t you need a LICENSE to be that UGLY?”

  “That outfit would be perfect for Goodwill. If she knows what’s GOOD for her, she WILL burn it.”

  “OMG! I bought that exact same sweater she’s wearing! For my dog, from PetSmart.”

  “What’s that awful STANK?! She’s supposed to spray on the perfume, not marinate in it.”

  “She has SO much acne, she uses a special makeup brand. It’s called Why Bother.”

  “What’s up with her new hairstyle? It looks like a small mammal made a nest in her hair, had babies, and died!”

  “She thinks she’s SO cute. She’s just living proof that manure can actually grow legs and walk.”

  To call MacKenzie a “mean girl” would be an understatement. She’s VICIOUS! She’s a PIT BULL in glittery eye shadow and Jimmy Choo flip-flops!

  FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6

  I think I’ve finally figured out why I don’t fit in at this school. I need a new designer wardrobe from one of those really expensive teen shops at the mall.

  You know, the ones where the salesgirls dress like Hannah Montana and have pierced belly buttons, blond highlights, and phony smiles.

  But what drives me INSANE is their nasty habit of unexpectedly snatching open the curtain of your dressing room and popping their head inside when you’re like HALF NAKED. It’s enough to make you want to slap those blond highlights right out of their hair.

  And when you look in the mirror, you can obviously see that the outfit looks HORRIBLE on you. But those salesgirls just smile really big and act cute and perky and LIE TO YOUR FACE by saying the outfit (1) looks totally fabulous, (2) brings out your natural skin tones, and (3) complements your eye color.

  They’ll tell you this EVEN if you’re trying on one of those huge green lawn-size HEFTY TRASH BAGS!

  I also HATE clothes that are “SNOBBY CHIC.”

  It’s when the exact same outfit looks TOTALLY different on two very similar girls. The more popular you are at school, the BETTER it looks on you, and the more unpopular you are, the WORSE it looks on you. I can’t tell you HOW a snobby chic outfit mysteriously knows all of this personal stuff about you, but it obviously DOES!

  WHY I HATE SNOBBY CHIC FASHIONS!

  The SNOBBY CHIC phenomenon is quite a mind-boggling thing. Hopefully, Congress will allocate funding for scientists to study it, along with how socks mysteriously disappear from the dryer. But, until then, BUYER BEWARE !

  Anyway, after my mom buys me a designer wardrobe, I’m going to walk right up to MacKenzie and her little entourage and tell them off really good.

  But before I say anything, I’m going to put my hands on my hips and do that neck-roll thing like Tyra Banks, just to show them how much attitude I really have.

  Tyra says every girl must find her own inner beauty deep down inside and ignore all the HATERS. She’s SO sweet and a wonderful role model!

  Although, I have to admit, she’s kind of SCARY on America’s Next Top Model.

  Especially when she’s screaming stuff at those poor contestants like, “You FAT, worthless SKANKS! You will NEVER, EVER make it in the modeling industry like I did! You have NO idea how much I’ve BLED and SUFFERED! And wipe that SMIRK off yo’ face before I SLAP it off, you little #@$%&!”

  Then she starts crying hysterically and popping Tic Tac breath mints.

  I just LOVE that girl!

  I’ve decided that I’m going to tell MacKenzie right to her face (on like maybe the last day of school) that just because she and her clones dress like

  FASHIONISTAS,

  they do NOT have the right to say really mean things about other people.

  “People” being the girls whose
moms make them shop at JCPenney, Sears, Target, and Wal-Mart.

  Girls like…well, ME!

  Okay. It’s NOT a big secret that the clothes from those stores AREN’T as hot as the clothes from the mall.

  And yes, it’s a huge inconvenience (and a definite turnoff) to have to walk through the “OLD Ladies,” “FAT Ladies” and “PREGNANT Ladies” departments to get to the one for “TEENS”…

  No wonder most girls prefer those fancy teen shops in the mall!

  FINDING THE TEEN DEPARTMENT

  My mom says it really doesn’t matter where your clothes come from as long as they’re clean. Right?

  WRONG!!

  I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard MacKenzie shriek, “OMG! WHERE are these PATHETIC girls buying such HIDEOUS clothes?! I’d come to school butt naked before I would EVER buy my fashions from a store that sells LAWN MOWERS!”

  To be honest, I didn’t know the stores I shopped at sold lawn mowers. And even if they do, big fat hairy deal.

  It’s not like the clothes smell like a lawn mower or something. At least, I hadn’t noticed it.

  The next time I go shopping, I’m going to sniff the clothing before I buy anything, just to make sure.

  I’m also going to wear a hat, wig, sunglasses, and phony mustache so no one will recognize me.

  WHATEVER!!

  SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7

  My mom and dad are driving me NUTS! In the past 72 hours, they have posted all over the house 139 positive affirmations on rainbow-colored sticky notes that say really stupid things like:

  “Be your OWN best friend. Invite

  YOURSELF over for a sleepover!”

  Unfortunately, I never got a chance to read the one they stuck in the toaster slot thingy because it caught on fire when I tried to make a strawberry Pop-Tart for breakfast.

  I had to dump my glass of orange juice on the sticky note to put it out.

  And after that, the toaster started melting, shooting blue electrical sparks, and making a loud, angry noise like:

  GRRRRRRAAAAAAAGGGG!!

  I’m thinking we’re probably going to need a new one.

  But what was really SCARY was that our house could have actually burnt to the ground. All because my parents stuck a sticky note in the toaster slot thingy.

  I know my mom and dad mean well, but sometimes they’re an

  EMBARRASSMENT!

  SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 8

  I’m already dreading that the weekend is almost over and I have to go back to school tomorrow. It’s been one whole week and I still haven’t made a single friend. I’ve got this…OVERWHELMING…sense of loneliness sitting in the pit of my stomach like a…big, fat, poisonous…TOAD!

  I’m seriously thinking about asking my parents to let me move back to the city and live with my grandma so I can attend my old school.

  I’ll admit the school wasn’t perfect. But I’d give anything to hang out with my friends from art class again. I really, really miss them !

  Anyway, my grandma lives in one of those apartment buildings for elderly people “who are young at heart and committed to leading a full and active life.” So she’s up on ALL the latest fads and stuff.

  She’s also a little wacky (okay, A LOT WACKY) and totally addicted to the game show The Price Is Right

  Last year Grandma bought a computer from the Home Shopping Network to help her train to be a contestant on The Price Is Right.

  Now she spends most of her spare time on her computer, memorizing the suggested retail prices of all the major grocery store brands.

  She plans to use all her research and game strategies to write a how-to manual called The Price Is Right for Morons

  Grandma says her book could be bigger than Harry Potter.

  I didn’t think being on a game show took any special skills, but she told me you had to train like you would for the Super Bowl.

  She took a few sips of her energy drink, stared at me real seriouslike, and whispered, “Sweetie, when life presents challenges, you can be either a CHICKEN or a CHAMPION. The choice is YOURS!”

  Then she started humming “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” really loud.

  I was like, JUST GREAT! Grandma is finally going SENILE! Doesn’t she understand that some things in life you’re STUCK with and powerless to change?! Jeez!

  But I have to admit she has gotten pretty good at The Price Is Right. The last few times I saw her play along with the game show, she got every single price correct! It was amazing because she would have won like $549,321 in cash and prizes, including three cars, a boat, a trip for two to Niagara Falls, and a lifetime supply of Depends adult diapers.

  I gave her a big hug and said, “Grandma, you have mad skillz at the Price Is Right game, and I’m really proud of you. But you should really try to get out of the house more often.”

  Grandma just smiled and said her life is exciting now that she’s taking hip-hop dance lessons at the senior rec center. And her dance teacher, Krump Daddy, is “dope!”

  Then she asked me if I wanted to see her “bust a move.”

  She was actually pretty good for a seventy-six-year-old! Grandma’s a little WACKY, but you gotta LOVE her!

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9

  This morning the halls were plastered with colorful posters for Random Acts of Avant-Garde Art, our annual school art show.

  I’m SUPER excited because the first prize for each class is $500, cash! SWEET!

  That would be enough for me to buy a cell phone, a new outfit from the mall, AND art supplies.

  But most important, winning that award could transform me from a “socially challenged ART DORK” to a “socially charmed ART DIVA” practically overnight!

  Who would a thunk my art skillz could get me into the CCP clique?!

  So I rushed down to the school office to get an entry form and was surprised to see a line had already formed.

  And guess who else was there picking one up?

  MacKenzie !!!!

  And as usual she was blabbering nonstop: “Like, since I’m going to be a model/fashion designer/pop star, I already have a portfolio of seven very HOT fashion illustrations for my FAB-4-EVER clothing line, which I also plan to wear on my very successful world tour as the opening act for Miley Cyrus, who of course will fall head over heels in love with MY designs and buy like a million dollars’ worth. Then I’m going to enroll at a prestigious university like Harvard, Yale, or the Westchester Fashion Institute of Cosmetology, which, BTW, is owned by my aunt Clarissa!”

  Okay. I’ll admit I FREAKED OUT about having to compete against MacKenzie.

  She just kept staring at me with her icy blue eyes, and my stomach felt queasy and I got chill bumps.

  Then, suddenly, I had an epiphany and I TOTALLY understood what my grandma meant when she said,

  “You can be a CHICKEN

  or a CHAMPION.

  The choice is yours.”

  So I gathered all my strength and determination, took a deep breath, and mustered the courage to decide right there on the spot which one I was:

  A BIG FAT CHICKEN!

  When the office assistant asked if I was there to pick up an entry form for the avant-garde art show, I just froze and started clucking like a hen:

  Buk, buk, buk-ka-a-ah!

  Then, MacKenzie laughed, like ME entering the competition was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

  That’s when I spotted the yellow sign-up sheet for library shelving assistants, also known as LSAs. Every day during study hall, a few kids get excused to go to the school library to shelve books. An LSA’s life is about as exciting as watching paint dry.

  So, instead of trying to achieve my dream of winning a major art competition, I very STUPIDLY signed up to shelve DUSTY and BORING LIBRARY BOOKS!

  MY FUTURE MISERABLE LIFE AS A LIBRARY SHELVING ASSISTANT

  “IF I SEE ANOTHER BOOK, I’M GOING TO PUKE!”

  And it’s ALL MacKenzie’s fault!!

  When I reported to the
library during study hall, the librarian, Mrs. Peach, gave me a tour. She told me I would be working with two other girls who had signed up last week.

  But what I wanted to know was WHO in their right mind would sign up to shelve library books as an EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITY?!