Flowers and Lovely Crap

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I know, it’s a bit late, but here’s a post about Valentine’s Day three days late, because I had no Internet.

Valentine’s Day! Or as I prefer to name it, Cat-Madigan-Is-Forever-Alone Day!

I hate it.

If you had not picked that up from my current tone.

Last year I had actually been looking forward to Valentine’s Day, because I was dating Potch. He gave me the Evenstar. For those who don’t know what it is, google it.

Here’s some advice to guys looking for presents for their girlfriends. If your girlfriend is a Lord Of The Rings fan, she’ll love it. If she’s not, she’ll still love it. And if you, like me, are single on Valentine’s day with your imaginary friend, call me. We can have a marathon, and eat cookies.

So I had school on Valentine’s Day. For those who don’t remember, I go to an all girl school. That’s enough of an explanation as it is, but I’ll go into further detail anyway. Girls are in love with love. Love and romance. Love and flowers and boys who sparkle in sunlight. Yeah…those girls. And they all happen to be in my year. Yayyyyy.

And do you know what girls love even more than love? Showing off that they are loved, which means showing off how their rich boyfriend who looks like Harry Styles bought them a bucket load of roses, chocolates and all things pretty.

And that’s how Valentine’s Day is ruined for me. RUINED. I love it when people are in love. Love is beautiful, I love love. There. I’ve confessed it. My name is Cat Madigan and I’m a romantic. Now excuse me while I go vomit in a bucket.

What I don’t love is what the girls at school interpret as ‘love’. Today, in Children, Family and the Community, the girls were talking about- guess what- boys. More specifically, who they were going with to the River Cruise. For me, I’m really hoping that one of my guy friends will take pity on me and ask me to go with them. Papa Willis maybe, though he’s told me that Flash might want to go with me as friends. Who knows? Anyway, enough of my loveless predicament. The girls at my private school were rating their guy friends, and recommending them purely on looks. Here’s some snippets of conversation. “I can hook you up with Cooper, he’s a babe!” “Why aren’t you going with Liam? You guys hang out all the time” “Nah…I’m thinking of asking Peter, isn’t he cute?” …one moment.

So now that my vomit bucket is full, let me finish my little rant. Love, I feel, has been changed around to suit women. Well, when I say women, I’m speaking of whiney teenage girls. I think that the above explains what their values are. Girls expect a hot guy to fall in love with them and treat them like royalty, no matter what their flaws are. And these guys themselves have to be flawless. And rich. Did I mention cute? Either way, my point, I hope, is sort of clear. Valentines Day, and private girls schools, suck.

Of course, this is probably the ranting of a teenage girl who is pissed off that once again, nobody loves her.

Either way, I hope that everyone who reads this enjoys their Valentine’s day more than I have. So Happy Valentine’s day, nonexistent readers.

Now to go finish my sewing, by myself, on Valentine’s day. How appropriate…already preparing for spinsterhood.

Cat Madigan

Private School Bitchfaces

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Today, we have exactly one more week of school for the year.

I is excited. Very excited.

My guy friends, on the other hand, finished today, and were bragging about it.

Assholes.

So today, after finishing my English exam, I went into the city with my friends.

Today on the list of awesome people hanging out with me was MJ, Papa Willis, My ‘grandma’-who I’ll name Mrs Jackson, Smith, Slenderman’s ‘son’- named from this point on Pretty One, and the Flash.

It had been almost three weeks since I’d seen the Flash, so I was quite excited to see him. As nonexistent regulars know, we’ve been going out, though it’s been difficult to see eachother, because I live in Wonderland and he lives just outside the Rabbithole. In English, it’s a bit out of our way. Plus with exams going on, we’ve been busy studying, so the only way we’ve been able to communicate is Facebook.

So after a long Friday of exams, we went into the city.

The nice part of the city that is, not the messed up part that I ventured into in The Chronicles Of A Mad Cat.

And a lot of girls from my school were going there too.

Now, the thing with me is that my girlfriends have incredibly strict parents, so they aren’t allowed into the city. My guy friends are the opposite, so when I go into the city, it’s them who I usually meet up with.

The only problem with this though, is that people interpret opinions based on that information. And one person told me one time to my face that they thought I was a lesbian.

Honestly, it didn’t really help things when I just frowned and said, “Oh”. Because I have never seen being gay as a bad thing. When I was little and living in another city, I grew up next to two gay guys, and they’re the ones who prevented me from dressing like my mother. (THANK GOOOOOOOOD.) But I’ve never seen that as an insult, so I didn’t give the girls the reaction that they were probably expecting/hoping for.

By the way, this was when I was dating Potch. A MALE…I’m presuming.

So, back to present day. We all went into the city, and we saw…

Nope, s!uts is too rude.

So is Wh@res.

…Pr@$titutes?

Nope.

Ok, now I have one.

We all went into the city and we saw Paris Hiltons!

There we go.

So Papa Willis took his ‘mother’ Mrs Jackson and his ‘nephews’ to save our seats while MJ stayed with me and the Flash to get food.

It was at that moment when the chief Paris Hilton waved at me.

I waved back, but I was deeply disturbed.

This Paris Hilton once told me that I had no friends and I was a fat loner.

She is a lovely person…according to numerous boys at the school that my guy friends go to.

So I was getting icecream, when suddenly, Queen Paris-ite got up from her table.

And she was heading for us.

Ooooooooh fudge, I thought. “Flash,” I whispered. “Watch out.”

“What?”

“Heeeeeeeeeeeey, Cat, good to see you!” Queen Paris-ite gave me a sorta hug. You know, that touch on the arm and leaning in ever so slightly? Yeah, that one. “Is this your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Flash, this is *insert alternate name for Queen Paris-ite here*, *insert alternate name for Queen Paris-ite here*, this is Flash.” I mouthed I’m so sorry over her head to him.

After she left, MJ came back. “Where did you go?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Fair point.” Then the full effect of what she had done hit me. “She hugged meeeeeeeee!” I cried. “Nooooooooo!”

Flash and MJ gave me a hug as I faux-sobbed (“I feel so violated!”) and then we just started laughing.

“You should’ve asked her how many guys she’s done!” MJ told me.

“Grandpa, I’m not that much of a bitch,” I retorted.

“Well I am!”

“Then you do it.”

“…maybe Mrs Jackson will.”

Mrs Jackson didn’t. Neither did Smith or anyone else. But we laughed about what we would say if we had the guts to.

Thus is the reality of private school children. We can talk about someone behind their back, but when they approach us, we’re best friends. And I’m included in that category.

Fuuuuuuuudge.