dibby dibby dibby

My name is Lola Lovely. I was born on July 26, 1995, somewhere in France, my mom says, but I moved to Chester, England where my parents originally lived, and now I live on  a prairie in Liverpool, England (where the Beatles came from ;D), in practically the middle of nowhere. Although, I do live near a grocery store, a church, a bank, a few houses, and a mall, fortunately, but they’re not too close. I have no school anywhere nearby, but I get homeschooled anyway.

Let’s get to the story now.

I looked at the bright green grass with small patches of yellow in certain places. Beatrice, my pet cow, started complaining, so I fed her and got ready to milk her. I painfully brought the heavy milking stool out and grabbed the rusty bucket next to the garage door. I led Bea to the back yard, where the woods showed darkly, and started milking her. I came in to find Emily holding Duncan (her siamese cat), and lazily watching Ren and Stimpy. The remote was under the couch, along with a gum rapper, a piece of masking tape, a half-empty water bottle, and a marbel from my collection. I thought that I must’ve missed one, when I was carrying my box of marbels, and suddenly, due to their unbelievable heaviness, I had dropped them absentmindedly, the marbels scattering all over the place and me suddenly turning red with anger and frustration.

“Emily, turn the TV off and come help me clean this place up. I’m getting ready for my interview.” I started collecting the garbage from under the couch and getting rid of them.

“No way. You do it.” Emily dropped Duncan, went to the kitchen, and started pouring him some Kibble. “It’s your interview, you do it.”

“I’ll tell mom about you shoplifting,” I threatened.

Emily didn’t sound very scared, but when I said what I said, I know I saw her eyes widen slightly.

“Lola, don’t think this is a game, okay?” Emily said, moving furniture so that four people could sit neatly in there. “I’m still getting payed.”

“Five cents an hour,” I joked. Emily rolled her eyes.

“Lola, will you go to Jaden’s and get me the groceries?” Dad hollered from his office upstairs. Oh, boy!

Jaden’s was the grocery store that was nearby. I got to go only about once a year, and the place was great…so was the walk there.

“Hey, Mr. Jaden,” I said.

“Hi, Lola. Is this all you want to buy?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I started looking at the fashion magazines, then instantly blurted, “NO.”

I’m a wiz about clothes and fashion. Every weekend, I go with my friend from church, Sarah, to the mall and get everything good there. When new stuff comes out every month, we pretty much go every day. If I were to be in the Ripley’s Believe it or Not books or something, I’d win for owning the most clothes more than anyone else in the world, probably.

I went home, put the groceries away and got some snacks out for the people interviewing me. In the bow of cookies, I found something. Something unbelievable.

Sid’s Specialties:
Being weird
Saying, “I’m trying to kill people here!” for his Battlefront 2 game
Being weird

Guess what! I have nothing to write about! I suppose the only thing I have to say is that I am nothing but a sad rag now that school is almost here. Some people say they want school to come back, but I always asumed that was only an adult’s excuse. Phooey. Although, I still do wonder what we’ll be doing when we return to the Prison … ehg, probably just dumb, boring fifth grade stuff.
Kinda like the phone conversations my frien Emma and I talk about once in a while, speaking of which. You see, she recently called me at the wrong time last evening, and when I immediately saw on the caller ID that it was her, I went bananas.
Speaking of which, I am eating one right now.
“H-Hello?” I whimpered on the phone with a reply of, “Hi, is this Zoe?”
“No,” I didn’t say.
“Yes,” I said. “Hi, Emma.” I made a sad face after covering the telephone screen before she could say anything.
“Hi, did you enjoy your Christmas?” Hm…yes! *gasp*
“Yup,” was a safe answer.
“So did I,” Emma said as if I didn’t know. “Well, I was calling to say that I think you and I should have some kind of ‘spy-dressing day’ when school gets back. You think?”
“Sure, why not?”
Then she started gabbing to me about wearing earrings and jeans and denim jackets or blazers and tall boots and straight hair and so on…
I couldn’t believe how little I’d been talking by the time my parents came home. Emma had been telling to me about her getting purple things for Christmas and me getting blue things for Chrsitmas and I was just pacing around like an idiot.
Suddenly Emma shrieked, “Stop, Zoe! Leave me alone!”
I was offended until Emma coaxed, “Sorry, Zoe, that was my sister. Speaking of her, she gets so much homework this year! Oh…guess what! one time…” Here goes another conversation! Wow! A record of eighteen simalair conversations this one phone call! And only three by me, the rest by Emma until finally we said our *lovely* goodbyes and hung up.

Sid just said, “I’m trying to kill people here!” for his Star Wars game.

Hmph. I guess I do have something to write about.

A note to my friend Emma: If you see this somehow, don’t take it the wrong way.

My walk home gets on my nerves sometimes. There’s this, like, third grade kid with one ear pierced, and whenever he is in front of me, he always continuously looks back at me every now and then, thinking (probably), Man, I wish that girl would stop following me, or, Ugh! Can’t I just get some peace! or, Whoa, a GIRL…
Yikes. I hate that kid.
*shudder*

My special afternoon walking home all by myself was totally spoiled by some people walking around me… The first guy didn’t do anything, he just came by me and I couldn’t quite tell if he was saying “hi” or just mumbling or (for some reason) cussing to himself as he passed by. But the other people were just plain creepy – beyond annoying. As I passed by the end-of-the-road house, or at least the house near the end-of-the-road house, I began to see a normal, boring-looking adult (see I use the word ‘adult’ because I am not a baby who uses the word ‘grown-up’) in the distance. I got closer to her and relized she was coming my way, so I couldn’t help but to groan, “Oh, please,” and purposely flip my hair in the way of my face so that she would not say “hi” or start cussing to herself. But instead of going past me, she stopped at the end-of-the-road house where I saw two strange looking people gardening in their front yard. One person was a woman or a man (I couldn’t quite tell) with crazy witchy brown hair that flung out everywhere and circular sunglasses that all together made it look just like Einstein, and the other was an old guy acting like a shy little kindergartener sitting in the quiet area after being blamed of shooting a paper airplane and spitball at the grouchy teacher. Then, without expecting it, the boring young woman started a dumb conversation.

“So have you rented this house yet?” she said stupidly.
“Aflur adftoo crumbo doo too doo blung blib.” I couldn’t quite understand the crazy old lady.
The shy old guy sat boringly on the porch as the dumb, boring conversation slowly went on.
I finally got to sing and talk with myself (you didn’t hear ANYTHING) after that, but my day was like, TOTALLY spoiled.

This girl just spun around for one minute…

… why do I ask so many questions?