Free Pretty in Plaid: A Life, a Witch, and a Wardrobe, or the Wonder Years Before the Condescending, Egomaniacal Self-Centered Smart-Ass Phase by Jen Lancaster Page B
Authors: Jen Lancaster
newspaper. My picture’s going to be in the next edition of the Campus . I’m the editor of the features page and I’m planning on running the photo with the headline JENI TO VACATION IN EUROPE. I’ve budgeted most of the page for the picture and the story because I’m going to print my whole itinerary. I’m going to visit the Eiffel Towel and the Palace of Versailles and the Louvre and Notre Dame, which is apparently not just a college! I’m cruising down the Rhine River on a boat in Germany! Who wouldn’t want to know every detail of all these exciting destinations?
Mr. H., my journalism teacher, suggested the story include a variety of students’ vacation plans, but who really gives a crap if Kerry Clark will be visiting her ailing aunt in Cleveland? Ohio may be the one place on earth more tres ennuyeux than Indiana. Or am I supposed to do an article on Jamie Peachtree, who’s traveling to Decatur for a 4-H soil judging dealie? When Mr. H. told me about this, I was all, “Really, he’s headed out of town to look at dirt? Fascinating! I’ll stop the presses for sure.” And how uneventful will Marina Perez’s trip to Guatemala be? She’s going to be building a church with her youth group, not cavorting with cute local boys on a big sandy beach, drinking fruity rum punch. Yawn!
Seriously, I’m going to Europe , people! I’m seeing the cradle of civilization and not some big, dumb dirt box. Not only am I going to Germany and France, but I’m hitting Switzerland and Belgium, too! I bet my classmates couldn’t even find Belgium on a map! Okay, maybe I couldn’t either, but Belgium’s got to be close to Germany, France, and Switzerland. 50
When my tour group got together last weekend for a pre-trip meeting, the advisor said something about passing through Luxembourg, but I can’t worry about every single town we’ll visit. I’m only concerned with the countries, especially France. I cannot wait to get there and show off how bien I speak the language!
Heather Mueller, one of the seriously popular cheerleaders in my school, got all pissed off when she heard about the French leg of my itinerary. She was like , “You know, I was born in Paris.” Um, if your dad was stationed at an air force base there, that doesn’t make you French or your Ramstein-born sister German, you spaz . That makes you a military brat, not a soon-to-be world traveler such as me.
Besides, Heather’s dad was transferred out of Paris weeks after she was born. It’s not like she can tell me about all the cool museums and shops, or even if European chocolate actually is more smooth and rich than the American kind.
Granted, it would help my social status if she and I were buddies, but she hasn’t been nice to me since we moved here from New Jersey because I stole all her I-was-born-in-Paris thunder, simply by virtue of having spent time somewhere interesting while not in utero . Our friendship? A total lost cause.
Anyway, the only thing that matters right now is being tres jolie in this picture. Robyn and I decided we’d look extra-foxy if we posed sitting with our backs to each other, each hugging one of our knees. Robyn’s not actually going to Europe with me, but she’s my friend, she wanted to get out of journalism class early, too, and she totally will enhance how good I’ll look in this photo. Seriously, this is the first rule in my handbook.
The Official PRETTY Handbook:
Jeni’s Comprehensive Guide to Outstanding Awesomeness
Rule One— If possible, pose with other girls when being photographed. It’s like if one pretty girl is good, more than one is exponentially better. (And if you’re having a bad hair day, they’ll totally deflect it for you.).
Rule Two— Wear the smallest size you can squeeze into. You can worry about comfort when you’re old. And if you buy jeans with the size label displayed on the outside back right hip, use thin black marker to change it. If someone on the school bus is going to look
Mr. H., my journalism teacher, suggested the story include a variety of students’ vacation plans, but who really gives a crap if Kerry Clark will be visiting her ailing aunt in Cleveland? Ohio may be the one place on earth more tres ennuyeux than Indiana. Or am I supposed to do an article on Jamie Peachtree, who’s traveling to Decatur for a 4-H soil judging dealie? When Mr. H. told me about this, I was all, “Really, he’s headed out of town to look at dirt? Fascinating! I’ll stop the presses for sure.” And how uneventful will Marina Perez’s trip to Guatemala be? She’s going to be building a church with her youth group, not cavorting with cute local boys on a big sandy beach, drinking fruity rum punch. Yawn!
Seriously, I’m going to Europe , people! I’m seeing the cradle of civilization and not some big, dumb dirt box. Not only am I going to Germany and France, but I’m hitting Switzerland and Belgium, too! I bet my classmates couldn’t even find Belgium on a map! Okay, maybe I couldn’t either, but Belgium’s got to be close to Germany, France, and Switzerland. 50
When my tour group got together last weekend for a pre-trip meeting, the advisor said something about passing through Luxembourg, but I can’t worry about every single town we’ll visit. I’m only concerned with the countries, especially France. I cannot wait to get there and show off how bien I speak the language!
Heather Mueller, one of the seriously popular cheerleaders in my school, got all pissed off when she heard about the French leg of my itinerary. She was like , “You know, I was born in Paris.” Um, if your dad was stationed at an air force base there, that doesn’t make you French or your Ramstein-born sister German, you spaz . That makes you a military brat, not a soon-to-be world traveler such as me.
Besides, Heather’s dad was transferred out of Paris weeks after she was born. It’s not like she can tell me about all the cool museums and shops, or even if European chocolate actually is more smooth and rich than the American kind.
Granted, it would help my social status if she and I were buddies, but she hasn’t been nice to me since we moved here from New Jersey because I stole all her I-was-born-in-Paris thunder, simply by virtue of having spent time somewhere interesting while not in utero . Our friendship? A total lost cause.
Anyway, the only thing that matters right now is being tres jolie in this picture. Robyn and I decided we’d look extra-foxy if we posed sitting with our backs to each other, each hugging one of our knees. Robyn’s not actually going to Europe with me, but she’s my friend, she wanted to get out of journalism class early, too, and she totally will enhance how good I’ll look in this photo. Seriously, this is the first rule in my handbook.
The Official PRETTY Handbook:
Jeni’s Comprehensive Guide to Outstanding Awesomeness
Rule One— If possible, pose with other girls when being photographed. It’s like if one pretty girl is good, more than one is exponentially better. (And if you’re having a bad hair day, they’ll totally deflect it for you.).
Rule Two— Wear the smallest size you can squeeze into. You can worry about comfort when you’re old. And if you buy jeans with the size label displayed on the outside back right hip, use thin black marker to change it. If someone on the school bus is going to look
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