Things are getting out of hand here. Brandy is taking over my house, my family, my mother [who, until recently, I had penned down as an un-takeover-able person], my LIFE!!
At her slightest request, Mom has stocked the kitchen cabinets with barbecue flavoured crisps, something I have been BEGGING her to do for months now.
I’m telling you, if people in our society ignore wise, intellectual preteens like me and opt to listen to cranky, always-get-my-way under-tens, then I shudder to think of our situation in fifty years.
At least Dad’s still unconverted. At least he’s still normal [well, as normal as he can get]. At least he won’t surrender the T.V remote control at the sight of Brandy’s puppy-dog eyes. At least he won’t drive around eighty miles just so that Brandy can eat at some wacky restaurant [that also happens to be the only eatery not available within a yard’s radius of my apartment, tucked in the heart of NYC]. At least he won’t…
Ah, who am I kidding?? He probably would if he had half the chance.
I probably would, too, if I were a little less awesome. Even Kathryn would, if she had the ability to think beyond the next Prada sale.
The world would be at her feet, if only she wanted it. Face it, puppy-dog eyes RULE!!