Allison's Private Journal

Dear Journal,

Merry Christmas!  I just got this brand new journal this morning if you haven’t guessed yet.  Just to remind myself of what’s happening right now, I’ll just put some useless info in here.

Name: Allison Judith Pickering

Age: 13 (8th grade @ NMS!)

home: 16 Peirce Lane of beautiful Middle-boro, Massachusetts

fam: Mom, Dad, Jake, Sylv, + the Odester (just to see how much I’ve improved in a few years, I’m 140 lbs, 5′ 1 3/4”)

love interest: Jon P. (not going out but inseperable when we’re together) speaking of Jon, his dear sister Jess is so unreliable it is not even funny!!!  She told me she’d have me over + we’d go skating but does she ever call me?  NO.  Not once, even to say we can’t hang out.  eeerrrr.  K back to info –

embarrassing: I’ve never kissed a guy on the lips.  I had a perfect ( + I mean perfecto, it was right there) oppurtunity w/ Jon in November at Jess’s party and I just, i don’t even know, threw it away!  I always do the wrong thing!

brag: I’m a captain on the school basketball team w/ nina + vicster + I also got high honors once again 1st term + I’ve been to pitching lessons w/ Mr. Looney twice–he thinks I have a lot of potential whoopie!  Just gotta practice

major confusion: PCC or softball this summer??? + Mike T. is one of my inner circle BFFs but when he recently went out briefly w/ Vickie (2 days haha Vic) I was feeling pretty jealous.  Was this just friend envy or am I feeling a little more than I should?  hmmm…

confessions: Yes I do think about me and mike going out… pretty much almost every day… but I also think about Jon every day, what I would do if I went over Jess’s house again… and what Jon might want to do but I definitely wouldn’t do if you get catch my drift… wow I really want to hang out w/ him again soo, I really miss him.  badly.  It’s supposed to snow tonight, maybe my 10:00 bball practice will be cancelled.  Jeez, that would be total saweetness!  O ya –

Best Friends: Madison, Eve, Mike, Nichole H., Ashley S., Jess P. (?) <– (check) yes , Will D.* (?) <– (x) no! <– kinda fun to lead him on + flirt a little sometimes, but only until he does something gross (farts maybe?) to make me come back down to earth. ewww.

question of the day: who will I go to the semi w/? – top choice is def. Mike unless I have a bf who is not Jon (he’s a freshman at MHS)

for resolutions this year I should do lose 15 lbs, softball 5x a week, take pictures + other I’m too tired to think about.  nighty night!

*name has been changed due to extreme embarrassment for grownup Ali if real person were to ever read this.

—–

While Little Allison does a recap of her life, slightly more grown-up Ali is going to point out some major personality flaws she wishes she’d been aware of ten years ago.  I’ve gone over the self esteem/body issues quite a bit at this point, so let’s focus on an even greater issue: friendships.

When I was at ‘Cuse, I spent the majority of my time with three other girls who graciously accepted me into their circle halfway through freshman year.  These girls remain some of the best friends I’ve ever known, but they put up with a lot of shit that I may have not been so forgiving about.  When we were sophomores and I became obsessed with the attention of douchey frat boys, only one of the other girls was in a house herself.  We had found when we became friends our taste in men was much more in sync than the other two–so in sync that long before we met, we had shared the company of a handful of fellows on campus.  Before we were friends, we were eskimo sisters (note: despite its UD definition, we Catholic ladies count makeouts-plus as eskimo sister status).  We found humor in it as good friends do in the incestuous circle of Greek life.  With 16 frats and 12 sororities that intermingle one-on-one every night of the week, sharing is inevitable, and there’s not much you can do but laugh.

Still, sometimes there comes a dude you just can’t bear the thought of macking it with a close friend.  This friend in particular–a literal angel on Earth–while showing me photos of her latest conquest had asked me, in reaction to my “OMGGHE’SSOOOOHAWWTT!!”, to please, please, not hook up with this guy.  Just this one.  It was a non-issue; there was a smorgasbord of hot dudes in every house and all over campus.  Certainly I could control my urges to pounce on this fellow should the opportunity arise.

Two weeks later, I attended our Barnyard-themed party with said dude’s fratty frat.  I don’t remember a lot of the details, but between cups of jungle juice and prancing around the stripper pole in my borrowed silver cowboy boots, Mr. No-Go and I somehow, magically, became friends.  And we danced.  In the spirit of college, after three songs together we became more than friends.  In a drunken state of not giving a fuck/invincibility, I asked my prohibited makeout to walk me back to my dorm–20 minutes and 125 steps away up the great Mount Olympus.  He obliged, and off we went.  We walked together giggling down the street to cross through campus.  Of course thoughts of my loyal friend flashed through my mind, but with three cups of vodka-beer cocktail in me in the midst of an out-of-control male-attention addiction I dismissed them.  Never one for keeping secrets, I figured I could live with just one.

This is where my belief in fate, Karma, and if I ever do something wrong I will be found out immediately kicks in.  Walking down the one block between my forbidden hookup’s frat and campus–the one spot in five-plus miles of sidewalk we traveled hopping from party to party–we came face to face with my three best friends.  One’s eyes went wide, her mouth gaping; another looked at us hazily, piecing this strange encounter together through a fresh vodka rush.  The third, the angel who would give her life for the happiness of others, smiled and greeted us through a most definite crushing realization.  I rattled off the casual explanation that Do-Not-Touch was kindly walking me home, as if I were to be trusted with a remotely attractive frat boy 50 feet of my room.  We kept the encounter brief and I convinced myself it was all fine.  Maybe I would bid him adieu at the lobby door.  That would make him a true gentleman.  Well, whatever thoughts I had in my head at that moment were lost by the time we reached Flint because he ended up falling off my bed into a giant pile of clothes sometime near 5am.

It took this conundrum to finally break me of my dicks-over-chicks problem.  I couldn’t have acted this way to a better person, and I’d argue it was her forgiveness that healed me (such a Catholic sentiment but I can’t deny my roots).  She was pissed, but she came to me with more maturity and grace than any 19-year-old you’ll ever meet outside the Bible belt.  My friends today might tell you I’m not done with my shifty ways–I have been known to ditch for dates–but the intensity has gone down.  Back in eighth grade it seems like I didn’t even get what a whorish bitch I was being about my friend Jess.  All I wanted to do was hang out with her brother.  It’s not that I didn’t love her on her own, but her flirtatious brother brought my wanting to sleep over to a whole new level.  I was a raging slut trapped in an overprotected Catholic girl’s body.  Thank you Jesus and the Middleboro Sacred Heart staff for my morals.

So we learn our lessons in friendship.  As Academy Award-winning sextet Three 6 Mafia says, “It’s hard out here for a pimp.”  This is absolute gospel when pimpin’ and friendships collide.  Can I get a God bless!!

Carry on my loves, and remember: never pimp on another pimpette’s man-ho.