29.07.2014, Sunday, 04:12 pm


Home alone AT LAST. Dad, Mom, Kathryn and Brandy have gone out to catch a movie at the Multiplex. Recalling how the last Skarr-family-movie-session went, I backed out of the expedition. An extremely wise call, if you ask me.

So now I’m waiting for House to start while sneaking handfuls of popcorn into my mouth as I write this.

This is THE LIFE!!

What could be better than having a Brandy-free evening ahead of you AND the prospect of blankly staring at the idiot box as well??

And, OK, there are lots of better things to do than the aforesaid [like having your math teacher absent for even a day], but this s about the closest thing to bliss I am going to get around here. Take it or leave it.

You know what?? Except for the “Pee-Her-Pants Girl” scandal and the torture I had to go through while attempting to sleep on the couch that night, Brandy hasn’t been THAT bad. And while most cousins don’t post monstrous snapshots of their elders on widely used social networking sites, she’s actually been behaving… decently.

According to Brandy standards, of course.

But still.

She hasn’t even had a major tantrum in, what, TWO WHOLE DAYS?? That’s got to be some sort of record. Brandy NEVER goes more than an hour without screaming her butt off for the most frivolous of demands.

Which makes me wonder what on EARTH that girl is up to. Because Brandy isn’t on her best behaviour for nothing. I know her too well to be able for THAT trick.

So WHAT?? What does she want?? What does she wish for SO MUCH that she hasn’t yelled herself hoarse already for??

It has to be something MASSIVE. Because if it was an ordinary request, she could’ve asked for it without doing this to herself [not being wicked for forty-eight hours, I mean].

Does she want my parents to sponsor her trip to the moon because her own Mom has run out of liquid assets thanks to spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on her daughter per month?? [Nope, I don’t think so. I mean, if there aren’t at least fifty million shopping stores there, count her out. Why do you think she takes the trouble and effort of coming to stay with US annually?? Not because she so enjoys our company, but because of the Dior next door]

Does she want my Dad to quit his job and become her official piggy-back-ride-giver?? [NO WAY. If the vehicle doesn’t cost more than a European country –which my Dad isn’t worth. At least, not to HER-, then NO WAY is Brandy going to be seen dead in it]

Does she want me to –horror!- give up my ROOM?? [I can’t see this happening in EVER. My chamber doesn’t have single diamond-encrusted walk-in closet, which is a BASIC essential for Brandy. How can she live in a place that doesn’t even contain a jewel-studded cupboard??]

Then WHAT?? If she doesn’t want a rocket or my father’s back or my room, WHAT COULD SHE POSSIBLY-

I’m going to have to hold that thought because House has just started and nothing is more important than catching up on your favourite serials. At least, that’s what I think.

26.07.2014, Thursday, 09:56 pm


My back is aching all over from the very bumpy couch I had to spend the night on. Do my parents even UNDERSTAND the physical abuse I am going through just because Brandy has come to stay?? I mean, if she wasn’t here, would I have had to lie down on a lumpy mattress that’s full of year-old food?? Would I have had to try to make myself comfortable among the alarming amount of dog fur it houses??

The answer is a ear-splittingly loud NO.

All I have to say is that no way am I going to sleep on that filthy chair again. Not in a million years. Not if my Mom swears she’ll do my homework till I graduate [not that THAT’S ever going to happen]. Not if you PAY me.

And while I may be slightly exaggerating about the cleanliness of the sofa, I have to confess that the pain is real. My shoulder is actually throbbing. THROBBING.

It was SO HARD concentrating on my Frosted Flakes due to the way my back was sending these sizeable ripples of agony down my spine.

I couldn’t even brush my teeth properly!!

The war between me and Brandy has just gone onto a whole new level. At first, it was purely on a mental level [and that was bad enough]. But now?? Now, it’s gone physical. Now I can really FEEL the pain, not just imagine it in my head.

I can’t wait to plan a revenge scheme, however childish getting even may be. I can’t wait to pay her back for the way my arms feel like they have been through a violent minute or two in the mixer. But most of all?? I can’t wait to end this battle.

I can’t wait for Patty to come back from the Egyptian holiday she has gone on with her parents. She and I are going to have so much to discuss.

19.07.2014, Thursday, 12:38 pm


The situation in Taylor Town got worse as the night progressed, if you can believe it.

I was getting ready to snuggle into my warm comforter and exploit its extreme fuzziness when Mom walked in, her face all funny. So I went, ‘Good night Mom,’ thinking that she’s probably come to tuck me in [even thought the last time she did that, I couldn’t draw a cursive A to save my life].

Instead of fluffing the blankets and singing me a lullaby, though, Mom stared me in the eye and says, ‘Sweetie, I’m afraid you’re going to have to spend the night on the couch.’

Of course, it takes a few moments to digest this.

‘What?? WHY??’ I whined, brandishing my arms is despair. The couch is the only piece of furniture we let Fudge sit on. The couch is where Marty sleeps when he comes over [Yes, the Marty who picks his nose when he thinks no one is watching]. The couch is where we eat when something’s wrong with the dining table.

And now Mom expected me to SLEEP there??

‘Why can’t she sleep in Kathryn’s room?? It’s bigger than mine!!’ I continued, adding more place for her to spread her evil in in my mind.

‘Taylor, Brandy specially requested to sleep in your room,’ –of course she did- ‘and you are NOT going to disappoint her. The poor girl is still missing her mother and just asked to stay here for the night.  You’re acting as if I asked you to switch to an Only-Broccoli diet.’ Mom argued, wagging her finger.

‘Fine, fine, I’ll do it,’ I grumbled, snatching my diary and a green sparkly pen from my bedside table as I dragged myself to the couch.

Now I’m sitting here, on the dreaded sofa, and I’m not liking it one bit. Sure, it’s managed to retain its velvety-ness even after all it’s been through [which is quite impressive, I must say] and it isn’t PARTICULARLY uncomfortable…

But it’s not MY room. MY room with all my glitzy awards staring down at me while I read. MY room with the cool Hunger Games posters cloaking the walls. MY room with its futuristic window that displays a sick view of the Hudson.

It’s not fair!! Why don’t we have a guest room like all other normal people?? I get that real estate can be pricey in the heart of New York. But my parents are DOCTORS. Don’t tell me we can’t afford another fifteen square feet of space.

10.07.2014, Wednesday, 11:12 pm


I just went through my previous entry and have to ask for your forgiveness, DeDe. I have soiled your pages by –almost- stating that Brandy can do anything she wants by casting a shy smile or two.

It was all written in a fit of mental instability.

26.06.2014, Thursday, 12:32 pm


Pattern Math Class

It was even worse than I expected. My meeting with Brandy at the airport, I mean. I thought that maybe, MAYBE, the both of us could let bygones be bygones and try to act more civilly to one another, like my mother is always telling Kathryn and I to do.

But it IS Brandy, Ruler of All Things EVIL, we’re talking about. That girl doesn’t even know what the word “civil” means; forget how to apply it towards SOME people [namely, me].

This is what I THOUGHT would happen:

[Though I’m not even sure why I BOTHERED playing this scenario a gazillion times in my head. I mean, things that I visualize seldom replicate themselves in real life]

My heart would pound at the sight of Brandy’s face as she battled her way through the throngs of fellow-flyers. My eyes would bulge as I spot her politely greeting my parents. My poor, innocent parents. She would daintily make her way near Kathryn and a slightly-less-than-pleasant exchange would take place [Kathryn, unlike me, isn’t forbidden by Mom to mildly swear at Brandy -Goodness knows why-, so her language tends to get a big colourful when she is at close proximity to her].

Then, while I try to compose myself as much as possible [since I’ve no doubt already begun to sweat my palms], she would calmly proceed towards me, her smile about as bright as an eclipsed Sun. ‘Taylor. As dishevelled and unfashionable as ever, I see,’ She would coo, her gaze never leaving mine, while holding me in a TIGHT embrace. ‘And you too, dear cousin,’ I would purr in response, grinning from ear to ear.

She would then depart from my company, the wattage of her smirk unfaltering.

Well, that’s how everything happened in my MIND, at any rate. What REALLY took place was far, far from it…:

She came up to my father and hugged him tight, her expression one of delight. I groaned internally as I noticed her stare fix itself onto my being. She skipped all the way, looking as fresh and beautiful as the most exuberant Vogue models. ‘Hey, Taylor!!’ She exclaimed, looking excited –excited– to see me. I was thrown completely off-guard.

Mistake Number One.

‘Hello, Brandy. Long time, huh??’ I tittered, bending down to give her a quick squeeze. Maybe she really has changed. For the better. I remember thinking to myself.

Mistake Number Two.

Of course, I should have known. EVIL doesn’t change. EVIL doesn’t convert itself. EVIL isn’t sweet. EVIL just thinks of different ways to humiliate.

‘You haven’t changed,’ she remarked, tilting her head quizzically. ‘So I’ve been told,’ I replied, squirming at the remarkable difference. Who would’ve THUNK?? Brandy and I were already fifty seconds into a chat and she hadn’t called me an “imbecile” or a “disgrace to the humankind” even once!!

‘Oops, so sorry,’ She apologized hurriedly, as the uncapped bottle of water slipped from her hands…

…And onto my baby-blue shorts. ‘I am SUCH a klutz,’ she admitted, fishing her bag for something. Mmm, how NICE! She’s searching for a tissue to help me wipe, I thought, already picturing Brandy and me having ice creams while visiting the zoo together. Its funny how little it takes to change my opinion about someone who I’ve detested pretty much my whole life.

Finally, she revealed what she’d been digging about her tote for… And it SO wasn’t a tissue.

‘Say CHEESE!!’ She yipped, clicking multiple pictures of me and my drenched shorts. Before I could fully register what had just happened, she flashed the phone in front of my face so that I could see the unflattering pic of myself… already uploaded on Facebook.

‘You’ve posted it on FACEBOOK??’ I shrieked, hardly believing it. What had happened to the nice, butterscotch-ice-cream-loving Brandy I had imagined having a great summer with?? And who was this crazy old hag in her place??

‘Oh Yesss,’ She hissed, ‘And I must say, you’re face in the photo is too delicious for WORDS,’ she continued, licking her lips tauntingly.

Before I did something that I would regret later on, I stalked away, fuming. So much for hanging out with HER at the Penguin Enclosure.