How I got a date and a new Best Friend in one night!

Work last night was crazy; I’ve been itching to write about it all day!

First of all Cheri (this crazy blond chick at work who everyone’s afraid of) stood up for me! I came into work three minutes late, and one of the other girls (Ashland the nuisance) had the audacity to start griping about the fact that I was late. She wasn’t doing it to my face, of course. She was doing the whole ‘I’m going to talk just loud enough that I know that you can hear me complain because I just want to embarrass you without actually speaking to you’ thing, which is also known as being a bi#$%.

Anyway, she was complaining to he evil sidekick, Tina, about me when suddenly Cheri came at her out of nowhere. Now, we’ve all been there the same amount of time, so none of us are in charge, but Cheri definitely has that intimidation factor going for her. I can’t write down what she says (what if my mom read this blog?) but I can tell you that Ashland won’t be talking trash within range of Cheri anymore.

Later that night I joined Cheri outside as she was taking her smoking break (she’s 16, but the whole law-abiding citizen thing doesn’t really fit her), and I told her thank you for standing up for me.

She thumbed-out her cigarette and shrugged. “You’re a good worker,” she said, filling the air around her with second-hand smoke. “You pull your load, and I like working with you. Ashland and Tina are a couple of lazy bi*&%es.”

“Thanks,” I said again. “I like working with you to.”

And with that, Cheri nodded and went back inside to work. So, I think I’ve made a new friend? I don’t know, everyone at school says Cheri’s crazy; Blair would certainly never hang out with her. Haha! I just imagined Cheri and Blair going bowling together. That would never work! Cheri would be off in some corner smoking, Blair would be looking at her in disgust, and I would be standing in the middle shouting, “Ain’t this a rip-roaring good time?!”

Okay, so that’s my Cheri story, but the night gets better!

After work, Jared walked me out to my car, which I of course thought would ruin my night, but when we got out there, he started asking me about Jackson (who just so happens to be his best buddy). The conversation when something like this:

Jared: So, I saw you and Jackson at the store today

Me: What, were you stalking me?

Jared: No! I was at the grocery store getting some stuff for my dad.

Me: Okay.

Jared: You sure were throwing yourself at him.

Me: What? I’ve never thrown myself at a man in my life. Especially not Jackson.

Jared: Why not Jackson?

Me: He’s too cool for me. Out of my league.

Jared: Do you like him?

(pause)

Me: Yes.

Then Jared concocted some valiant plan to hook me up with Jackson. I expected some underhanded trick, but as soon as I got home that night, Jackson called and asked me out on a date Sunday night! More specifically, he asked me if I wanted to hang out and watch an Xmen movie with him. I guess maybe Jared felt bad about the whole Slade thing, so he gave me a break?

I don’t know, but I can’t wait until Sunday night!!

Cheers!

Morning Shopping Trip

I had the morning off today, so I went shopping with my fellow Majorettes. (I am one of the five majorettes in the Marching band). The five of us really wanted to get some matching outfits for the school pep-rallies. This is always a trying task because we all have very different body types. Missy and Kiki have great curves; Liza is super-model tall and pretty thin; Tera is thinner, but heavy-chested. I’m a soccer player, so I have that athletic build that all the girls think is “so great” and all the guys think is flat.

Anyway, we were on our way into one of the local department stores when I noticed Jackson across the parking lot.

“Hey, Missy,” I said, “go on in. I’ll catch up.” Before she could say anything I was bounding across the parking lot calling Jason’s name.

I heard Liza laugh and say something along the lines of, “Damn, Kaylee and her boyz. He must be a drummer.” I might have said something to object to her implications, but there was no need.

In this case, Jackson was a drummer (a super talented drummer), and although he was way too cool to be one of my “boyz,” I have had a tiny crush on him ever since he jumped over a trash can during peewee soccer practice. His aerial feet stole my heart, and I immediately realized that he was, and always would be, way too cool for me.

He is a really nice guy though. As soon as he saw me, he picked up his skateboard (I told you he was cool!) and accepted my leaping bear-hug with all the grace in the world.

“Kaylee,” he greeted me with a cool smile. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know,” I tried to impersonate his cool demeanor, “not much I guess. Just doing some shopping with the girls. You know, majorette stuff.”

“I’ve still never seen you in a uniform.”

Jackson’s a Seventh-day Adventist. That is, he believe that Saturday is the Day of rest, the official Sabbath, so he doesn’t do much Friday nights because he’s preparing for the Sabbath…or something like that. Anyway, he’s not in the marching band, and he doesn’t come to many football games. If he does, he leaves early. So, no he had never seen me in my tiny, sparkly uniform, and yes, it made me really excited that he had thought of me in that tiny, sparkly uniform.

“Well, maybe…” I almost said ‘maybe we could make an arrangement,’ but I was afraid that would sound slutty, “you should come to a game. You know, just for a little while. And you could come see me in the stands.”

“Yeah.” His smile was so cool. “I might do that. I’ve gotta go to work. You should come by the store later.”

I stifled a shrill of excitement. “Cool,” I said, and went back to the department store. Jackson works at the local Winn Dixie, and I really wanted to go see him later.

It took way too long to pick out an outfit that looked good on all of the majorettes—as I predicted that it would. By the time we finally agreed, I was too eager to get home and get lunch, so I forgot about going by to see Jackson. And I didn’t remember until I got home, so now I’m spending what little time I have before work venting about it on my blog.

☺

Blair

Blair has been my best friend since my ninth grade year in high school. Ironically enough, she was my worst enemy in junior high. I can’t really say why we didn’t get along, but most people don’t find it surprising.

Blair can be a real k-9 of the female persuasion, if you know what I mean. She never pretends to like anybody or even to tolerate anybody. If she’s your friend, she’s a great friend, but she speaks her mind and she expects you to do the same. She can be a little judgmental sometimes, and she truly believes she is better than most people (she can't help it, being rich and blond). But that’s what’s so funny about her! She knows exactly who she is and she doesn’t try to hide it! That’s why she’s my best friend. I know I can trust her to be herself, even if she’s a person who doesn’t always get along well with others, even if I have to stand up for her all the time.

For example, one day during class CJ was griping about how Blair told him she didn’t like his hair cut.

“CJ,” I said, “you really shouldn’t ask Blair for her opinion if you don’t want to know it. She’s going to be honest. She just told you that she didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, right before she told me I looked like a magical fairy-elf,” CJ reminded me.

“Well, your ears are kind of pointy—but in a good way!” I added hastily, “I mean, I like them. I think they’re hot—like Legolas.” It’s true. I really love CJ’s ears. I might be a weirdo, but I think that people's flaws are what make them attractive. I mean, think of Cindy Crawford—where would she be without her mole? “I wish my ears were pointed.” I touched the point on CJ’s ear and smiled.

“I like your ears the way they are,” CJ said, taking my hand.

I laughed and pulled my hand away. “Yeah, but if they were like yours I could dress as a Vulcan for Halloween!”

I should have never said that. There I had CJ consoled and I ruined it by trying to make a joke. I’m so stupid sometimes.

“I can’t help my ears!” CJ complained. “She could have just said she didn’t like my haircut! She didn’t have to talk about my ears.”

“Well, Blair’s a b@!*. And she would tell you the same thing if you asked her.”

See? Standing up for my friend. ☺

Boy Troubles

My name is Kaylee Elise, which I guess is kinda obvious by my blog name…hehe. Anyway. I don’t really like the whole double-name thing, so please just call me Kayla. I live in a small town called Talladega, Alabama, supposedly named after some Cherokee “princess,” though since my ancestors did not have a formal monarchy, I sort of doubt that. Talladega is a small town, a very small town. It’s tiny. You might have heard of it because of the racetrack, and maybe because of Larry the Cable Guy jokes. Don’t get too hung up on the stereotypes, though. Just because the people of Talladega talk slow, that doesn’t mean we are slow—not all of us, at least.

So, I’ve started this blog for several reasons. Mostly, I just want to practice my writing. My dream is to be a novelist some day. Please don’t be too judgmental. I’m only a high schooler (don’t rub the Eragon kid in my face, okay?). I was also encouraged to blog by my best friends: Blair, Brian, James, and even Bethany. They all agree that I need to vent (and Bethany wants to keep up with me while she’s off saving the world with her church youth group). I have a lot of…issues. Nothing serious. I’m not a drug-dealer or a klepto or anything like that, and I don’t have weird foot fetishes. I just have a lot of, well—boy problems.

The main one right now is named Jared. He’s my ex-boyfriend, and I’m having to work with him—every single day. Don’t get me wrong, J’s an alright guy, I wouldn’t have dated him otherwise. He was actually a really great boyfriend, the only issue was that I couldn’t break my four-month rule. (That’s right, I have dating rules. One of those rules is that I can’t date a guy for over four-months, otherwise I’ll get too attached.)

Please don’t judge me. I’m not a bitter love-hater, girl. I think that the idea of true-love existing for immature high school students is really…cute. No, it’s great. Really. It’s a totally plausible idea for books featuring sparkling vampires and movies featuring big blue genies. In real life, however, teenage love doesn’t usually pan out so well (my parents are an exception). I’m not bitter, I’m just a realist and studies show that ten out of ten teenage relationships end. So, why should I waist my precious time trying to build a foundation for something that is only temporary?

Whoa! Got a bit off-topic there. Let me steer us back into the right direction.

Jared. Jared is a really nice guy, but he’s held a bit of a passive-aggressive grudge since I dumped him last semester…in the school cafeteria. (I know, it wasn’t my brightest moment, but the dating nonsense had to stop.) I can’t handle the drama of teenage angst!

Of course, I’ve had nothing but drama to deal with since the breakup. What with Jared accusing me of dumping him for my best friend CJ (who I have absolutely no feelings for whatsoever) then telling everyone at work that I have a crush on the dish boy, Slade, when I am clearly crushing Michael (he’s so tall)! Of course he did all of this while pretending to be my friend.

Holy poop, I was so embarrassed today when Slade came up to me and said, “Jared told me you think I’m hot.” (Slade is cute, not hot. He has pretty blue eyes, perfect teeth, and golden hair. He also looks 14-years-old.)

I swear I gawked at him for a good ten minutes. I must have looked like a really confused catfish minus the mustache.

Finally, I said, “I didn’t.”

Slade was not putt off. “Oh, c’mon. Admit it!” Slade said, smiling.—Did I mention we were not alone? This was not a private conversation, no. He confronted me in front of all of the dish boys. “Jared said you think I’m the hottest guy here.” And there was Michael, being all cute and nonchalant.

“I don’t.”

Slade was getting flustered. “Why don’t you just tell me? You think I’m sexy.”

I was quickly realizing that Slade was a jack&$$ and needed to get knocked down a couple of pegs. “Look, Slade, I don’t know if this is how you usually flirt, but I’m not into arrogant juveniles who think they’re too big for their britches.”

I turned to walk back inside, and I might have left it at that had I been anything less than a lady. Ladies don’t leave men in total shambles, so as soon as the other dish boys (including Jared) were done with their immature howling, I cleared my through and said, “For the record, you do have really nice eyes and could probably use them to get any girl, if your mouth didn’t get in the way first.”

Well, there you have it. I guess I handled that alright—other than the fact that Michael probably thinks I’m a total b-word right now. Oh well. There goes that potential four-month relationship featuring movies, popcorn, and free dinner.

I just don’t know what to do about Jared. I’m sure Slade was telling the truth, but why would Jared hang him out to dry like that? And what crap is Jared going to try to pull next?

Agh—stupid boy. Any advice? This blog has to be good for something.