Diary of a Darcy Girl

Sunday, June 7
Mom bought me a diary. Oh yes, a diary. Not a journal. She didn't even consider my tastes when buying it. It's pink and frilly, with a lock and everything. It even has "Darcy's Diary" stamped across the front. Yuck. She woke me up in the middle of the day yesterday, all excited.


 * Darcy, I got something for you.
 * [Ears perking up.] Oh, really?
 * Yup! [Shows me the diary.] What do you think?
 * Not really your style...
 * Oh, silly, it's not for me, it's for you! [Flips over the diary, showing the pink frilly letters. They're curly. It drives me INSANE.] What do you think?
 * [Trying not to hurt her feelings. Grimacing.] Looks... great.
 * [Squealing. Actually SQUEALING.] Oh, I knew you'd love it! [Bounces out of room.]
 * [Looking at diary. Hoping lasers will come out of my eyes and vaporize it.] I... hate... you.

So now I'm stuck with this really frilly diary that's pink and fluffy and all the things I hate. I bet if it was a human, it would be afraid of the dark, just like Nibbles, our years-old cat, is. Thankfully, Mom let me get my own cat, on the conditions I would take care of it and water and feed it. So I did.