it's floey's private diary!


      part 1

      part 2

      part 3

      part 4

Floey! Floey! Floey! Floey! Floey! Floey! Floey!

floey's private diary - part 1

Thursday, April 3 7:20 p.m.
        I have a gigantic honking pimple boiling up on my chin. It’s definitely stress-related. I think I’ll go soak my head in zit cream and take a relaxing bath with some of Ma’s scented oils.

Saturday, April 5 5:15 p.m.
        I’m sitting at the back of a wedding store called I Do! I Do! waiting for Lillian to pick a dress, which is kind of like waiting for an acorn to turn into a tree. We have been here four hours and twenty-three minutes. The store has a whole showroom jam packed with wedding gowns and Lillian seems determined to try every one three or four times each. Ma, ever the trooper, is still speaking calmly and making supportive comments, but her face is showing signs of desperation—I believe she’s starting to lose her grip. Meanwhile I’m still back here waiting.
        I spent the last fifteen minutes in front of a mirror counting the taste buds on my tongue.

Sunday, April 20 11:45 a.m.
        This morning Lillian announced that she wants to get married underwater. Apparently she read about somebody who did that who now says being at the bottom of a swimming pool ‘elevated the emotional experience’ and gave the marriage a ‘primal beginning unlike anything any air-based ceremony could have.’
        Ma asked if she was serious, but Lillian insists she is. Plus, she keeps pointing out, it solves the wedding dress problem. She’ll just wear the white bikini she bought last month. She’s calling around for scuba diving lessons at this very moment.
        Despite what Azra says, I honestly believe my sister is certifiably insane.

Monday, April 28 7:45 p.m.
        Spent the afternoon working at the photo studio with Gary and Wen. Gary kept dropping subtle questions about how Ma feels about him, and about how she feels about raising Lillian and me by herself--like it isn’t already obvious that he’s got the hots for her. Poor Gary. If he wasn’t such a sweet guy, I’d tell him to forget it—he has about as much chance with Ma as I have with Prince William. (Come to think of it, I read that Prince William, unlike Ma, is at least dating people--so I guess that gives me a leg up.)
        Wen just called. He says there’s some punk-jazz combo called Razor Slash Bee Bop playing near RISD this Saturday and would I like to go with him. I played it coy, like I had to check because my schedule may be full, but inside I was doing handstands. Finally, a romantic afternoon alone, just the two of us! Saturday might be the day where Wen finally admits that he likes me, and that he already thinks of me as his girlfriend. And about time, too! Then the next time I refer to Wen as my boyfriend in front of Ma and Lillian, I won’t actually be stretching the truth.
        Somebody give the boy smelling salts! Wake up and smell the obvious!