This phone:

The magenta Motorolla RAZR V3. Like that'll ever happen. I've had my phone for three years. It's huge, heavy, scratched up, and leaves a very creepy bulge in any/all pockets. I hate it, and therefore, I never use it. I've begged for the RAZR. Begged, pleaded, and offered all sorts of favors. It didn't work. Despite the fact that I fixed my parents' marriage and didn't tell anyone about their respective infidelities, I don't get the phone. The same phone way too many of my friends have. Oh well. Mom threatened to call the school and complain about how superficial teenage girls are (hello? seriously? seriously!), so I guess I haven't got a chance in hell of getting the phone. Well, it's strangely fitting, I suppose. We don't get to go to Williamsburg (Frank had a scare with his heart so he's in the hospital for observation or something like that) and I don't get a phone. Well, at least she (hopefully) won't make me the most hated girl in school by calling the principal. Keep your fingers crossed.

It's been a crazy two days. We had orientation. It was pretty boring, but it was fun seeing everyone again. The school screwed things up. They had us meet our weirdo teachers, but no one has any idea when lunch is - or where our lockers are. We don't know what to do on the first day. Should we bring backpacks? Should we carry our stuff around all day? Do we have lunch together? These are the important things. Not all that "what to bring to class" stuff. Besides that, some of my teachers are kinda scary. Like Ms. Antoine. Eep. She took her shoes off in class. Ew. She wore all black - even nail polish on her fingers and toes. And she has a scary laugh. Creepy in the extreme. I think we found this year's Ms. Hyatt.