I didn't sleep very well that first night in the kidnap cabin. Even after I was done Catching Up with the fat Kardashian, that total terbo thwat. To be real, I much prefer the younger skinny hotter Kardashian sisters over The Big Beast of the East. But I guess they have to put the beastly one and that super creepy rapey brother on TV sometimes. You know, just so everybody will know that they have their own crosses to bear too?   

Then there was the constant wind whooshing sound of the air across the attic roof that wouldn't fade into the background. So I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the whooshy wind finally settled into a quieter but bitchy whisper. Like not only was it totally winding and shit? But then like a chorus of drunken angels started taking a seriously long leak on our metal roof. So I used my old Cat Heart Eyes emoji pillow to suffocate myself into sleeping. Mostly cause that was easier than trying to baby-shake myself to sleep like Sister'Mom used to do on the regular. Those childhood memories were the best. Just me and drunken Sister-mom passed out together on the old crackhead crash out sofa in some friendly fellow strippers small trailer living room. 

When I woke up in the morning, a thick fat fog was all I could see out my window. Like I could feel the claustrophobia trying to creep up on me and strangle me. Like you could never really see the sky here in Forked, because it was like a really foggy bathroom mirror? But that didn't really bother me as much as the tan that was already fading from my awesome summer boobs. Like this place was already sucking so hard it was evaporating my many months laying about the lame public pools of North Las Vegas.    

Breakfast with the Chief was a quiet affair, as he was seriously hungover ASF from last nights beer binge. He did wish me good luck at school and told me to stay away from the tweekers. Which made me kind of scowl, cause good luck tended to avoid me like the forking plague. But I did thank him for that piece of thoughtful advice on the tweekers. But reminded him again that I already survived living and leaving North Las Vegas aka Zombieland USA. So I had plenty of experience with the forking Tweeker Zombies. I did wish him good hunting on all the criminals, aka all the illegal minorities, that he is licensed to shoot on site. 

Chief Chuck left our crack cabin first, of course. Probably off to spend some time with his real wife and kids before the brats go to school. After he left, I just sat at the old square formica table, in one of the three un-matching wife-beater chairs and examined the small kitchen. Unfortunately, nothing had changed since yesterday when it was still a total shithole. Like the dense dark wood-paneled walls that belong in a basement of some S&M dungeon. Not to mention, the slightly bloodstained linoleum floor. Yeah, I'm thinking this place has seen its fair share of some tough interrogations. Or some seriously crazy cop bachelor parties with exotic dancers. Even though this far north "exotic" probably means some foreign Canadian chick with frosted highlights in her hair. Either way ...different strokes or whatever works.   

The only splash of color that doesn't seem to be an old bloodstain, is the bright ass yellow cabinets. And I swear to Satan, that they looked like my mother had tried to drunkenly paint in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Truth be told, I kind of prefer the doom and gloom that this bitch is rocking on the regular. So maybe I will paint these crapy cabinets back to their original meth-lab blackout...or not? Cause that sounds a lot like work or whatever? So I immediately unthink this stupid thought. At least until I can find some stupid hot shop class kid to string along with the illusionary promise of some sexual favors to fix this bitch up for free? 

I drift over the small fireplace in the living room to check out the seriously sad ass row of so-called "family photos". The old wedding picture of Chief and my Sister'mom with drive-thru Elvis in Las Vegas just after she turned eighteen. Then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born a month later or maybe before, taken by an unhelpful nurse? My mother looks high ASF and Chief looks paranoid as a motherforker. I just look like an ugly afterthought of a one night stand that lasted to long. 

Followed by the procession of my school pictures right up to last year's glorious mall modeling headshot. I remember the photographer offered me a part-time modeling job in his mother's basement ...as if? All those junior high pics of me were embarrassing ASF to look at. So I would totally have to burn that shit, before I started bringing any fuckboy toys over to bang on the regular.

Being up in this bitch, it was impossible not to realize that Chief Chuck had never really been into my mother much. Like she was some super needy one night stand that overstayed her welcome ...by about nine and a half months. This fact made me almost feel kind of comfortable actually. While that didn't say so much about my mother, it did say a shit ton about this guy playing my new foster father. Cause clearly he did not give a fork about whats-her-face. 

Or maybe, he had another better family somewhere else? And was just keeping me stashed here out of sight, until he could explain to the real wife what was what? Yeah, that actually that made a lot more sense. The sad part is that Chief Chuck is not totally that bad of a dad dude actually? So I hope his real family is nice to him ...and leaves me the fork out of the Christmas photo.      

I felt a little better, after I burned through my bad junior high big hair photos and dumped the ashes in the toilet. But I had to face the fact that today would be just the beginning of another round of bullshit in the never-ending shit storm that was my life. But at least I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cop cruiser. So thanks to The Thing my first day at new lame school today would be just slightly less lame ...or whatever.

I decide to forgo wearing my normal heavy makeup face. Cuz really, what was the point of spending the time to look even hotter than I already do for all the forktards? Without heavy makeup on I just looked nothing like everyone else anyways ...more or less. Maybe if I didn't look too much like a girl from North Vegas should, I could work this to my advantage?

Like I should be tan, sporty, platinum blond Buffy cheerleader prototype, like all the things that go with living in the valley of the unforgiving sun. Instead, I was ivory-skinned Emo named Sister Snowflake, without even the excuse of blue eyes or Irish red hair, despite the constant sunshine. But that's what happens when you wear sunscreen like you are supposed to, and only go swimming at night so pedo's can't take pool picks of your princess parts. I think what happened to Jean Bonnette was a warning to all young over-sexualized little girls on the Princess pageant circuit, one that I seriously took to heart. 

It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in with the all other girls with all body fat/no boobie issues. Cause I am super skinny with a taut ass that you could bounce a quarter off of, and my boobs are disproportionally perfect. Like even back in junior high school, I tote looked like I already had a first fake boob job. The one decent thing I inherited from my sister-mother was a rocking hot porn bod without even trying. I mean I know other bitches back in the NLV that dieted and exercised and then threw up and shit, just to look a little better? Who all hated me for my hotness, that I never had to work at. But like I have my own problems too ... just looking fat, flat and not hot isn't one of them? 

I think most people really don't appreciate how hard can be to look perfectly proportionate without plastic surgery. In a lot of ways, it really is the new Instagram normal, so haters are always gonna hate. Like no one understands, what's the point of having all this super sexiness in effect, if I can't even find a decent dude to hook up with? And if I couldn't find a perfect match at my last school with ten thousand excuses for people, what were my chances here in Forked up? 

Like I don't really relate well to guys my age. Mostly because most of them are broke ASF and can't afford to buy me all the shit I want. But I am still too young to hook up with an older billionaire dude with his own biker gang, who wants to buy me a lavender Lamborghini for my birthday. So for the current, I am stuck in the middle between two bad things. Broke ass Mutherforkering high school boys who have no clue what to do with my hot ass. Or some statutory rape charges on Billionare Biker Boss, no thanks to hypocrite cop dad. God, sometimes I wish I had been born in Utah and could already be ending my first forced marriage by now. Personally, I think everyone should have a first marriage. Like a practice run with someone to pay all your bills while you weed out your stupid shit. At least until you can find something better to breed babies with or whatever?   

The truth was that I didn't really relate well to the little losery people in life. Even my excuse for a Sister/Mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet. But that was probably just cuz we lived together for so long and our chick cycles were in-sync, IDK? But even then we could just never see to be on exactly the same page. Probably because I can actually read something besides the TV guide and supermarket starlet rags? 

Anyways, I didn't want to be too early to new stupid school. But I couldn't really stay in the meth-lab murder house anymore, either. So I donned my one black Unabomber hoodie and headed out into the water. It was just drizzling, like not enough to soak me through to the bone ...but like just enough to fork up my hot hair into a sexy mess of wet strippery strings. 

Stomping down the drive to the Thing in my bitch kickers was whatever. TBH I kind of miss the normal crunch of broken glass crack pipes that I am used to hearing in the morning. I couldn't really stop to appreciate my Thing again as much as I wanted to. Mostly cuz  I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair making me look like that one stupid lame Flashdancer chick.

Inside the truck was at least dry, and either Chief or that drunken Indian dude he got this thing off of had obviously cleaned it up a little. But the leather leopard print seats still smelled faintly of nicotine, gasoline, and something in an all too familiar herbal green ganja. To my relief, the engine roared to life quickly with a throaty roar, and then idling at top volume like a sick Harley that would set off car alarms. Even the antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected. But it was tuned to some strange crazy Christian rock station. I mean the Jonas Brothers seriously, right? I was so glad when I heard they all died of ass Aids. Probably, from their purity ring penis piercings or whatever?  

So I take The Thing out for her big first-day drive to school. TBH I already love this thing sofa king much! From the leopard print leather bench seat perfect for going down bonetown on, to the baby Bald Eagle feathers fuzzy dice on the mirror. I sofa king can't wait to try the big ass steel bumpers on a foreign familia of four trying to jaywalk. Bump, bump, thump, thump ...bye bye ya forking filthy Frosties.    

Finding the school wasn't difficult at all, even though I'd never been there before. The school was like most other things in this craphole town ...it was just there. It was not that obvious it was a school, more like an uppity trailer park that named itself Mobile Estates. Only the signage out front of this shithole says it's a school, declaring it to be the FORKED HIGH SCHOOL. Which made me stop and almost laugh, cause some local deviant artist had turned the OR in Forked to UC so it read right: FUCKED UP HIGH. And this was not done recently either? Like the Class of 2010 left their mark a long time ago, and no one bothered to change this shit. Probs cuz they all knew it was way too true to try to fix.  

Yeah ...maybe this wasn't going to be as too totally lame as I thought? Back when I was thinking things ...or whatever.

This shit looks like a sad ass collection of matching trailers at the trailer park, with small fences of bitch colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its small ass size at first. So where was the feel of the penal facility, I wondered nostalgically? Where were the chain-link fences and barbwire, the metal detectors? Shit fuck ...where were all the foreign exchange people? No minorities in sight up in this bitch was a seriously big red flag for me. I guess the cops are really doing a bang up job keeping crime down in Forked ...aka making anyone different feel decidedly unwelcomed in Forked. I guess no 911 terrorist tower shit was going down in Forked on the Chief's watch. Anyways... 

Turns out that Forked High School had a frightening total of only five hundred and fifty-seven students now with me five-fifty-eight. Hell, back home at my old school North Vegas High there were more kids than that on probation and parole alone, than the entire population of this bitch. Not even if you counted teen pregnancies as two people going to school.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading Main Office. No one else was parked there, so I wasn't sure if they were even open yet or not? So the first day of school and I've decided to roll up into this bitch like a boss. So it's clearly time to just stomp in and start making demands anyways, cuz that was better than circling around in the rain like a forking idiot. So I stomped out of the toasty truck cab in my bitch-kickers, and walked down a little stone path to the Main Office door and yanked that shit open like a boss.

Inside was dimly lit and smelled slightly of potpourri, a sure tip off of tweek vapor. The office was way small and obviously understaffed. The small ass holding pen had padded wall for head-bangers. Orange shag carpeting, so that that throw up woodchuck stuff would blend right in with it. A big ass clock ticking loudly, to remind everyone that they were wasting their time here, dying a little more every minute. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough of that green shit outside, they just had to have some more indoors? I swear to Satan this shit is what it would look like if fucking faeries and elves ran the cold cruel world that was high school. 

The small ass room was made even smaller by a lame long counter to separate out the worker bees from the rest of the drones. Ten tons of bullshit cluttered wastebaskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to the front of the counter for the little midgety kids to read. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a weird old hippy woman wearing sunglasses inside. Bitchtard was also wearing a Grateful Dead purple tie-dyed T-shirt and a pair of Birkenstocks hippy sandals, which immediately made me feel way too overdressed.

The weird old hippy chick finally looked up from her dog-eared copy of Dr. Seuss's Blue is the Warmest Color: The Mystery of Brokeback Mountain and saw me glare-staring right at her. I really had to resist my standard North Vegas retort to this challenge: "Órale vato, ¡wassápenin! Wha chu you looking at puta?" (Insert brandishing box cutters here)

"Can I help you with something, Snowflake?" She smirks, licking the next page of this childhood classic over.

"Forking Snowflake?" I snort back at her attempt to make nice.

"So yeah, like I'm like Bee Blackswan and shit? So like, I guess I go to this bitch now supposably, soever? And don't call me Snowflake again ...or I will forking cut you." I informed her hard, to let her know I ain't taking none of that Snowflake shit from anyone...ever.  

"Well of course you are. Who else would you be?" She says all super snarky and shit. 

I immediately see the dim awareness in her stoney eyes go a little denser. Yeah, I was kinda expecting this shit look, a topic of toxic town gossip no doubt. Adopted daughter of the Police Chief's and his snitchy strippy ex-wife, come home at long last leaving a long line of dead bodies in her wake. Sometimes it pays to have Cop dad on call in troubled times. Lucky for her she ain't a tweek-tard or shit would be on like Donkey Kong.

"Col...lum...bine." I drone dryly.

She reaches for the stranger danger alarm and then blinks a bunch at me like as if she is deciding to take me on or what. I guess she decides I am a bigger bitch than she is and just punches up my name on her old ass computer. Which beeps and flashes and shit...like I am on a watch list now thanks to that bitch at TSA who came up on Christmas at the NLV Airport.

"So like, I have your schedule right here. And a mini-map of the school." She tosses several sheets of colored paper on the counter to show row.  And some mini-map of this bitch and gives me a slip to have each teacher sign. Which I was supposebly supposed to bring back at the end of the day to prove that I actually showed up for this shit. 

She super fake smiled at me and wished me dead, that sounded sorta like she hoped I would like it here in Forked. I shrugged back as convincingly as I could just to get her lesbo licking lips off my ass. Don't get me wrong, I am not anti-lesbian or anything at all. Cuz TBH some of them lipstick lesbians are hot enough to make me think twice about going downtown. But I am hating on a hippy bitch in a minute...cuz fork peace...violence solves shit! And I know that by thinking those lesbo comments at her in my head, she will get all super PC offended and shit, backing the fork off my business. And after all, that's what really matters most ...me and my feels? Either way, I can tell we did not part best friends 'till the end.

After that bit of bullshit, I went back out to my hellion truck of death to kick if for a minute. Other forktards were starting to arrive and get kicked out of their cars by uncaring parents. So I drove across the lawn and parked in the first handicapped spot that wasn't in the line of sight of the Office. I was glad to see that the rest of the cars were older beaters like mine, nothing pimped out. 

At home, I'd lived in some ghetto ass spots before Sister'Mom came up on Phil to suck dry. So like I totally know the stench of poor people when I smelt it. The nicest car here was a shiny shitty Accord with a spoiler, and that shit stood out loud and proud. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw too much attention to me. Cuz I wanted my fine ass to make the best impression possible ...not my racist rebel flag ride.

In the confines of my Thing, I looked at the minimap of this so-called school, trying to memorize it. So hopefully, I wouldn't have to talk to anyone and ask directions. I stuffed everything in my ho go bag, slung the strap over my shoulder and sucked in a huge breath. 

"You can do this shit bitchess. See the bitch, be the bitch ...and everything else is gonna be absolutely bitchtastic." I tried to psyche myself up to face this school shit sober for once. I vowed to myself, that no one was going to get over on me today. Rather die on my feet, than live on my knees like a Snowflake! 

"Fork this shit..."  I took my vape stick out of the knife slot of my purple bitch-kicker combat boots and took a way deep danky hit of weed wax. 

I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck, not high ASF but with a mild head change for the better. I pulled my hoodie up over my hot hair and kept my face down as I walked in this bitch. I intentionally wore my plain black Unabomber hoodie so I don't stand out too much. At least until I can see who is hot and who is not up in this bitch. Upside no one was looking too Stranger-Danger at me, so I decided to just embrace the burn.

But from the first minute on campus and pretty much everything I thought about this bitch turns out to be so totes true. Everything and everyone is exactly as forking lame as I thought they would be. All of the kids here had grown up together ...like their grandparents had been toddlers together in the Great Depressing? And just based on the ratio of "Special Kids" up in this bitch. Yeah, I got a bad feeling that some of them had the same grandparents ...on both sides of the shallow ass gene pool. Dogdamn, can you say Deliverance much?   

Once I got into the flow of catwalking again, building #3 was easy to spot. A super large red "#3" was painted on a white square on the east corner like a kindergarten class for Special Ed. kids. 

I finally felt my head change wash over me with a sigh of relief as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two possible homosexuals through the front door of homeroom. The first thing I noticed was the classroom was small and quiet'ish. The fags in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. But it turned out they were not glee gay guys after all, but just two really bulky rainbow bright bitches. One of the hags was a peroxide fake fat blonde, the other possible her sister with same lame light brown hair. Both of which obviously cut cult compound style by their new sister-wife slash step-mother.  

So I guess it just goes to show you that you shouldn't call people "fags". Not even in your ongoing mental monologue...or whatever. Cause even thinking thoughts like that can lead to unwanted acts of awkward discrimination? Like what if you bullied the right person ...but for the wrong reason? And then you'd be forced to apologize for bullying bitches for not being not good gay...but for being a fugly ass instead? These were troubling times to be a mean-ass bitch, I tell you.  

I took the stupid Hippy bitch slip up to the teacher man. A fat bald man, whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Teacher Homeroom. He practically gawked at me when he spotted my super summer boobs hidden under my Unabomber hoodie. Which TBH I did not take as an encouraging response at all. But then he saw my name which brought those sandpaper eyes right up my chest to my cold dead eye stare. After which I see the fear flash in his face. So I'm thinking he's probably been busted by Chief Chuckles for Pedo Porn before. But then had to paid off the Chief so that he could keep his job around kids. So of course, I give him a dead-eye stare down for "looking at me wrong".

"You can sit where ever you want...all the way in the back." As forking far far away from me as possible! Cuz I don't need any trouble from your badass crazy cop dad ...is all clearly implied. 

At least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. Yeah, it pretty clear that this fool has seen the inside of Big Daddy's jail cells for some"Special Time" with his own booty bandit. Ew shit ...I really have to stop calling Chief Chuck that D-A-D-Y shit. 

It was harder for my new classmates not to stare at me all the way in the back of this bitch. But somehow they still managed to eye bone me hard. I kept my eye contact down to a bare minimum, so that I didn't have to laugh in all their faces at the same time. Cuz let's facial it... I am not here two forking seconds and already I am already the most popular princess up in this bitch. And I didn't even have to wear my Bitchess parka or cut anyone yet, to get the respect I demanded on the regular. 

It's pretty clear to me that, already all the bitches want to be me...and all the guys want to bang me. Even the younger teachers assistants are looking at my ass like I am fresh meat. Like this place is seriously giving me the rapies. (Like rape + rabies...I think you get the point.)  But I already knew that being the new hot chick from North Las Vegas, would probably make me a freaky deeky curiosity. But damn...I am already Queen Bee...and I haven't even had to cut anyone yet. 

Dogdamn, but I miss my bedazzled box cutters... super sad sigh. 

Homeroom turned into my next class which was English, with the same fat forking bald pedo. It was fairly basic bullshit Shakespeare and shit, about those two suicidal kids from Verona. I'd already seen the movie with Leonardo and that creepy chick from My So-called Life, so everything was the same. So that was somewhat comforting I suppose, but boring ASF. 

So when the bell finally rang, a nasty buzzing sound. A gangly boy with skin problems and hair as greasy as an oil slick leaned across the aisle tried to talk to me ...as if.

"What'z zup baby girl. You be Belladonna Blackswan, aren't you?" He looked like a typical chess club type and a little too eager to touch my titties. 

I could already tell he was totally gonna touch himself tonight thinking about me before his bedtime prayers to Buddha. But that didn't really bother me as much as him trying to talk to me did. I mean this guy was literally like social radiation, exactly the type of toxic loser that could turn you uncool by prolonged contact. 

"Just Bee ...cool?" I corrected. And everyone within a breathing the same air as me radius, turned to look at me. Like I am the bomb  ...so not a big shocker.

"Where's your next class, Bee Cool?" He pushed his luck a little, trying to be funny by making fun of my NLV accent.   

"Why? What's it to ya forktard?" I eye him cold.

Normally, I would have sliced this fucktard a new forking smile by now with my bedazzled box cutters ...but I was still new. So I just played the stupid slut role, just to see where the game was going. Maybe this was some sort of set up by popular peeps to see if I would be nice to a loser? Little do they know, I'm not nice to anyone ...ever. 

"Well I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way to wherever if you want?" Definitely over eager to watch my ass walk. 

"Oh, and I'm Derick," he added as if I gave a shit.

"Whatever. I think I can find the fourth building next to the third building on my own." I shrug him off stupid.

We headed out into the rain, and I could swear everyone behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I kind of hoped I wasn't getting way too paranoid after my morning wake and bake.

"So, this must be a lot different than Las Vegas, huh?" Forking Derrick kept pushing up on me like a leech.

"Very." I keep walking straight ahead trying to ignore the forktard.

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?" He pushes his luck. 

This forking fucktard will not quit with twenty forking questions. 

"Never." I lizard roll my eyes. At least until flash flood season, when the angry Angels clear out the homeless and wash them out into the desert to die. 

"Wow, what must that be like?" He wondered like we were talking about Avatard stars and shit.

"Desserty" I drone.

"But you don't look very tan for someone who lives in the sun?" He desperately tried to stand a little taller to observe my tits for tan lines.

"Yeah, what can I say? Other then I'm half Snowflake on my mother's side. Soever."  I shrug off stupid and keep moving.

He falls in behind me intently studying my ass apprehensively, as if he wants to ask my permission to touch himself a bunch? Maybe its just me, but it is starting to look like all the clouds and an IQ didn't really mix well. Hell, a few more months of this shit, I might even forget how to use sarcasm to start shit with bitches who hate? So of course, the forking creepy geek follows me around the back around the building, and right to the door of my next class.

"Well, good luck Bee cool" He lingered longingly and then sucked in his breath super excited as I touched the door nob handle sugestively. 

"Maybe we'll get to have some more classes together?" He sounded way too hopeful this would be a wet dream come true...heavy emphasis on the dream coming.

"Dare to dream." I shrug vaguely and went into my next room full of strangers.

The rest of the morning passed by into a blur of blah blah blah ...blah. My teacher, Mr. Math guy who I would have instantly hated anyway just because of the number shit he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and "introduce myself to everyone". 

"I'm Bee Blackswan, just moved forking here from Vegas. So really loving all the clouds and rain you have rocking. Like really looking forward to the snow season and shit." I lied like a mutherforker. 

Thank Dog, I was trained to lie like a rug to Child Services since the age of three. Cause it looked like these forktards are actually buying my bullshit, without even really trying to hard. 

"Do you have any special skills or talents." Teacher Math asks all super hopeful that I will want to trade after school sex favors for decent grades. Getting the easy A, the hard way  ...as if. 

"Not so much." I shrug him off.

"Well, looks like you can make it rain." He smiles sickly towards the sky. 

What are we on a first strip club date? Where's the Crystal and the all you can eat taco bar, up in this bitch? Cuz if mutherfucker taught me anything from her time in the second rate airport strip scene it was: No money ...no Honey!

So I shake off this shit off like Herpes. Cause the last time I checked, stripper school only cared that you graduated with a GED. But you come into that industry with an actual high school diploma? Sheeet ...you can practically write your own ticket right into Strip Club middle management. Because let's facalize facts here, big billionaire biker gang bosses only buy lavender Lamborghini's for chicks with really low mileage. 

After three classes in a row, I unfortunately already start to recognize way too many of the same faces. As I am apparently tracked into the smart kid classes, and there are so few smart kids at Forked High. There is always some bitch braver than the others, who wants to introduce themselves to me. Like I give a forking crap about them and their bullshit. But they all keep trying to ask me questions about how I was liking Forked. 

So being the first day up in this bitch I sorta tried to be at least somewhat chillaxed, but mostly I just lied a lot. Apparently, even the smarty kids are super forking stupid up in this bitch cause they are buying my bullshit with super smiles.  

At least I never needed the mini map, cause this place was so small the buildings only went to classroom trailer 10. It's finally in Mexican class that I finally talk to my first minority in forked high. One Asian chicklet sat next to me in both Math and Mexican. I don't call this shit Spanish, cause if you ever heard how Spanish people speak the Queen's Spanish? You would never mistake macho manly Mexican for that mucho gusto GASF Euro trash talk. Lispy forking freaks in speedos at the beach in Barcelona, sipping sangria margaritas under the foreign French stars. 

She was a teeny tiny Asian chicklet, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches. But her hair was wildly curly, like a super bad home perm? So that made up for some of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her real name, so I called her Lee ...because it's the most common Chinese name I could remember. There were two almost hot Bi-curious Asian chicks named Lee in my Sex Science class back home, I think thoughts? Or maybe I just called all Asian chicks Lee? Like I called all Asian guys Bruce for some reason? But I really have to wonder if that is racist or whatever? Like it seems like it might be racist ...but then again maybe not, IDK? 

I think that might be one of my many mental malfunctions. That I have a hard time seeing others as real people, but more like ghosts, who may or may not be there? But then again, I don't really hate on them or anything like that either. I just ignore them or treat them like I do everyone else. I think it's important to acknowledge the fact that I am more than just a little racist ... especially against the entire human race! Cuz irregardlessly of what third world Euro shit-hole cesspool your ancestors came from? Or what color your bad skin is? Or who's boy band god you bang in the boom boom hole. At the end of the day, you are still stealing my air through your suck hole.  

Personally, I think Kim Kardashian said it best when she said: "People suck so much! I wish they would all die and leave me alone ...at least until I need them to love me."  

Anyways...Bruce Lee's super smarter sister smiled a lot, as she prattled about shit I don't care about. Like teachers and classes and other nerdy things that smarties care about. So I don't even bother to try to keep up with all her verbal diarrhea. Instead, I just keep rocking the Resting Bitch Face at her, hoping she will get the point. Unfortunately for me, she never does get the point of shutting her suckhole. But bitch does do me one solid, that I have to give "Lee" props for? She invites me to have lunch with her and her excuses for friends. So at least I don't have to eat alone and get sad stoned in the Thing like I was planning on doing. 

So at lunch, I end up sitting at a table with Lee's and a bunch of her best minority friends. Who she introduced to me and I forget all their names as soon as she spoke them. They all seemed super impressed by her ninja-like bravery for even speaking to me. And TBH, I got to give the little ninja bitch some mad props for being fearless enough to wear the clothes her mother picked out for her from Walmart!

During lunch, I easily spot that freaky-geeky boy from English. He waves at me from across the room. I could already tell from the think sheen of sweet on his face, that he already rubbed one out, thinking about me on a bathroom pass after we last parted ways. I only hope he washed his hands after, before touching the cantina door handles. Ew...so gross. Sooo time to hand sanitize ...I pull out the small vodka bottle I stole from the airplane and wash off the cooties.

Fork me! I am already regretting trying to come here and start over. Right up until I see the cool kids walk into La Cantina, and that is right about when shit goes seriously sideways ...  

Authoress Notes & Feels

__________________________________

Hella all my Lovilies!!! OH-MY-DOG! I can't believe I actually wrote a whole nother Chappie in the same day!!!  Whoo woop!

So what did you guys think about my second Chappie, so far? Was it Sofa King Kool ASF or what? So by popular demand I have to decide to keep rolling with my vision of Moonlight. Or at least until I get on the hotlist and featured with a million reads! Which after that I know that Netflix will so make a show for me. So wish me luck Luvlies, LOL !!! 

So what did you think of Bee's "Bitchess" parka. :) :) :) :) :) :) :) 

This week's secret word is "Bitchtastic"  like Bitch + Fantastic. Me and my homegirl Sista Solie came up with that shiznit last week at a partay. We was so stoned ASF and talking trash on Courtney (Skank!) And Solie was like ... "this is some Bitchtastic weed Moonie!" 

So anyways... like I still need your guy's advice on a couple of randoms for Bee to hook up with? Oh, and I need some input on Bee's new best gay friend who will soon be appearing.

Also, what did you think about Bee thinking mean things about other people? 

Okay, Truth or Dare...I take Truth! 

So here's my truth...I think thinking mean things about other people is pretty normal? Kind of like masturbation? Like everyone does it ...but no one ever wears a t-shirt that proudly says so. 

Or sometimes when I see that one blonde boy toy on the school bus. Who looks suggestively sideways at me when I am wearing just my swimsuit to school. Which TBH, I sometimes do ...even when I don't have swimming first thing in the morning. (Shhhh ...don't tell him I said that shit!!!)   

Anyways...as always don't be a silent reader ...cause that's like wrong and it really hurts peeps feels and shit. So read, vote, over-comment, overshare, add to ALL YOUR LIBRARIES EVEN THE SHITTY BAD POETRY ONES!!!  Follow this account, create a bunch of fake FB accounts to follow this account, so you can vote more on my stories, and all my friendlies stories, but not my enemies stories. Like that stupid skank Courtney at WillaBoneU4Votes... I know you reported my Pilates camel toe selfie you skank! And never forget "Snitches get Stitches" too...not just bitches.

Oh, and please keep my dog Mr. Bobo in your thoughts and prayers. Cause we they are running some test on him now to determine if he can even keep his stones and bone. So it's like super sad at home right now cause everyone knows how much Mr. Bobo loves to lick himself in the princely parts ...for like hours. Ew...so gross!!!

So if everyone please light a candle for Mr. Bobo's balls tonight, and wishing them a safe recovery from The Nut Cancer, that would be so totes stellar of you!  

Anyways... until next time ...LUV U LUVLIES :) :) :) !!!