Dear Dumb Diary,
So I taped that kindergarten picture of Angeline into my diary and took it over her house to ask if it was really her. She said it was, and was all excited that I keep a diary because says she does, too.
But then she asked if she could read if.
Awkward, right ? Since on one or two occasions, I may have written something unpleasant about Angeline, and I REALLY wanted her to fix my hair. So I said ’d let her read the love poems that Mr. Prince had sent me, but that was it.
Angeline looked a little startled, and read the first one and smiled. Then she read the second one and grinned.
“These aren’t from Mr. Prince,” she said.
“”What makes you say that ? ” I asked, getting angry, but not angry enough to walk away from a hair makeover.
“I get a lot of notes, Jamie. I can identify the handwriting of every boy in the school. These were written by Mike Pinsetti. See? M.P. doesn’t stand for Mr. Prince, it stands for Mike Pinsetti.”
For a moment, I thought I could taste yesterday’s meat loaf.
“See, Pinsetti’s nicknaming skill has two sides. He;s also a good poet. He’s just good with words in general.”
Yup, it was yesterday’s meat loaf all right.
“Also, Mr.Prince is dating Miss Anderson. At first, I’m sure he probably thought she was a bit old for him, but that picture of her in our art project may have changed his mind.”
Curse those who can pose adorably!
“And, by the way, Jamie, if you really do think that a teacher or any old guy has sent you a poem like this, he totally belongs in Gross Guy Prison. You’re in middle school. Seriously. You should know better.”
I didn’t know what to say. Angeline was right. I weakly flipped to the third poem and, as Angeline read it, I saw her face totally change.
“Take your dog and go,” she said. Just like that.
“Go?” I said.
“Go. No cutting. No styling. No highlighting. No moisturizing. No silkifying. No conditioning, and definitely NO ZONE SHAMPOOING !” She handed me Stinker and ushered us out of the door, and I don’t know which one of us was more upset about leaving.
“Angeline,why?” I said. “What did I do?”
“The poem,” she said. “the lousy one.That’s Hudson’s handwriting. Do you honestly think I’m going to fix your hair and help you win Hudson back?”
And she slammed the door.
So there is such a thing as Zone Shampooing! Can you imagine what I could have become ?
Dear Dumb Diary, So I taped that kindergarten picture of Angeline into my diary and took it over her house to ask if it was really her. She said it was, and was all excited that I keep a diary because says she does, too.But then she asked if she could read if.Awkward, right ? Since on one or two occasions, I may have written something unpleasant about Angeline, and I REALLY wanted her to fix my hair. So I said ’d let her read the love poems that Mr. Prince had sent me, but that was it. Angeline looked a little startled, and read the first one and smiled. Then she read the second one and grinned. “These aren’t from Mr. Prince,” she said. “”What makes you say that ? ” I asked, getting angry, but not angry enough to walk away from a hair makeover. “I get a lot of notes, Jamie. I can identify the handwriting of every boy in the school. These were written by Mike Pinsetti. See? M.P. doesn’t stand for Mr. Prince, it stands for Mike Pinsetti.” For a moment, I thought I could taste yesterday’s meat loaf. “See, Pinsetti’s nicknaming skill has two sides. He;s also a good poet. He’s just good with words in general.” Yup, it was yesterday’s meat loaf all right. “Also, Mr.Prince is dating Miss Anderson. At first, I’m sure he probably thought she was a bit old for him, but that picture of her in our art project may have changed his mind.” Curse those who can pose adorably! “And, by the way, Jamie, if you really do think that a teacher or any old guy has sent you a poem like this, he totally belongs in Gross Guy Prison. You’re in middle school. Seriously. You should know better.” I didn’t know what to say. Angeline was right. I weakly flipped to the third poem and, as Angeline read it, I saw her face totally change. “Take your dog and go,” she said. Just like that. “Go?” I said. “Go. No cutting. No styling. No highlighting. No moisturizing. No silkifying. No conditioning, and definitely NO ZONE SHAMPOOING !” She handed me Stinker and ushered us out of the door, and I don’t know which one of us was more upset about leaving.“Angeline,why?” I said. “What did I do?”“The poem,” she said. “the lousy one.That’s Hudson’s handwriting. Do you honestly think I’m going to fix your hair and help you win Hudson back?” And she slammed the door. So there is such a thing as Zone Shampooing! Can you imagine what I could have become ?
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