And we are NAKED!
It's just so gross, I can't even describe it! Phillip and I want to hide, and usually do, whenever they get out those stupid baby books.
Our parents hope that Phillip and I will get married when we grow up. I totally laugh at that. I have told them so many times that I can't marry Phillip because I'm marrying a prince.
I blame my obsession on wanting to marry a prince on Disney and Phillip's sister, Ashley. Ever since I can remember, our parents have been getting together to play cards on Friday nights. We have pizza, which I love, and I get to play with Phillip. Unfortunately, that also means I have to play with Ashley. Ashley is four years older than Phillip and me and a pain in the rear. (I would say butt, except I'm not supposed to say that b word.)
Speaking of b words, Ashley is very bossy. And she's always played the Queen. Which means she gave me the choice of being either her servant or her daughter, and who in their right mind would sign up to be her servant?
I told you how bossy she is. It would've been unbearable!
So I've always played the princess.
Important Things I have learned in my life so far:
Always be the princess. Princesses have much more fun and not so much responsibility. Plus you get to marry the prince.
Never be the queen. Queens are old and bossy and sometimes even evil. (Remember Snow White?) Queens think they are in charge of everything. Queens are responsible.
Responsibility makes you crabby and no fun.
When you have the choice, play with a boy. Boys are easy to get along with. They don't care if your clothes match, or if your hair is a mess. Boys don't talk behind your back or make up stories about you to try to hurt your feelings. They are too busy playing sports or video games.
Always trust your Daddy. Daddies are incredibly smart and handsome and they always smell very good.
Never kiss and tell. You will get tortured by people who you thought were your friends.
Never, ever, ever trust Mary Beth Parker. Even if she says she is your best friend.
Last week, Mary Beth Parker told me I could be her best friend. She got me to play with her on the playground and Lisa, who is my best friend, got mad at me. The very next day, Mary Beth Parker told everyone not to play with me.
I didn't do anything to her. That's just how she is.
She is very mean.
Phillip was the only person who played with me. He didn't care what that bossy girl said. He acted like a prince that day.
I told him so and ever since, when it's just us, he calls me Princess.
And he's the ONLY person I'd let get away with it!
TODAY IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE.
Really it is!
A new family has moved into our neighborhood, across the empty lot from my house, and across the street from Phillip's house.
This is most unfortunate.
The parents seem like nice, decent people, but unfortunately they had to bring their stupid, stinky son with them. Why couldn't they have forgotten to bring him with, or left him on the side of the road somewhere in Missouri? Maybe someone would've taken him home, like a lost kitty.
That way, he could've ruined SOMEONE ELSE'S life.
Phillip and I have so much fun playing together. We play lots of sports, games, and fun stuff that I make up. Usually, we play some version of the handsome prince coming to rescue the beautiful, royal princess. But it's not like it's all girly. Phillip gets to do some really cool boy stuff, like fighting a dragon with a sword, dueling with an evil warlock, climbing the tower. Stuff like that. We even play Olympics and have all sorts of sports competitions.
But since that nasty, smelly boy next door came here, Phillip acts like the only fun thing to do is to play with him. Phillip and I are both real good at sports. It's not like I can't keep up with him! Honestly, I'm bigger than he is and can actually beat him at almost everything. Except for a flat out running race, he is a bit faster than me.
I'm always the first girl picked when we split into teams at school, but somehow, this evil boy has convinced Phillip that he shouldn't play with girls.
Today, Phillip and I are minding our own business, playing in the empty lot between Danny's house and mine.
Did I mention his name?
Danny. Danny Diamond.
Devil Danny is more like it.
I wonder if his parents know how truly awful he is?
Poor people. They really should consider giving that boy up for adoption.
Oh, I hate that boy!
He makes me sooooo mad!!!!!
Anyway, Phillip and I are playing a nice game of Four Squares, which ALL the boys at school like to play, when HE comes walking over.
He thinks HE is SO COOL!
The first day he moved here, he told me how he's a great quarterback.
I told him to stop bragging. It's not nice.
But he went, I'm not bragging, I'm just confident in my skills.
Whatever.
I figured the kids at school would hate him because no one likes a bragger, right? Right?
Wrong!
Because of his bragging, his so called skills, and the way he looks, all the girls at school are in love with him. I mean he does have nice blonde hair that always looks like he just combed it, even when he's out in the wind. And all the girls have been going on and on about his dreamy blue eyes and his cool attitude.
Personally, I think they're just bored with the boys we've grown up with and would like anyone new.
Although I have to admit, the first time I saw him, I thought he was really cute too.
But that was WAY before I knew him.
He interrupts our game by saying, “Four Squares is a dumb girl game. Wanna play football, Phil?”
It's not PHIL, you idiot! It's Phillip. No one calls him that. I'm sure that my Prince Phillip will not let him talk about our game, or me, like that. So I wait for his reply.
“Sounds fun,” Phillip says, “I'll go grab a football.”
And off he runs.
No bye, Princess.
Nothing.
Has Devil Danny used some kind of evil brain washing on Phillip?
Can he control people's minds?
Will he suck out Phillip's soul?
I am so mad that I could scream! But instead, I try to get along and say, “That's okay, football sounds fun too.”
Danny glares at me, like I'm a piece of poop that he just stepped in. “Girls can't play football. Why don't you go home and play with your dolls or something.”
Well that was about all I could take from that boy.
“Danny, you are a stupid, ugly, smelly boy.”
I am so mad at him, but then something terrible happens! As I'm yelling at him, tears start coming out of my eyes. Why is that? I'm not SAD. I'm boiling hot, furiously MAD!
MAD. MAD. MAD. MAD!!!
I continue to yell at him anyway, “And I wish you would just go back to Missouri and DIE!”
What I say doesn't seem to upset him in any way. He just looks at me with disgust and says, “Girls are such crybabies.”
I turn and run home.
Fast.
I slam the back door, run up the stairs, and slam the door to my room. I throw myself across my bed and cry. Then I move to my window seat, so I can look out the window at those stupid boys playing football, while I cry.
Why do I cry when I get mad?
Maybe he's right. Maybe I am just a crybaby.
Maybe I will just give up and let him steal my best friend from me.