C-lo,

Talk about feeling pressured to go out with kicker dude. I mean, what was I going to say? The chick from Make a Wish Foundation called me personally and like, told me if I did, that she'd say that I helped a charity and I could put it on my college apps.

I really didn't see the point, I mean, what college isn't going to accept a genius like me? They'd be privileged to have me. But my mom made me. She said that she'd take away my car if I didn't go out with kicker dude.

Okay, first of all, his name is Kelly. Uh, hello. His parents must have been thinking to get his rear kicked all the way through high school. It's a girl’s name. There is no way someone could have thought that was androgynous. (BTW, I totally got that word from my word-of-the-day calendar. I told you it would make me smarter. Bitchin’ huh?)

Back to Kicker Dude… He must have learned to be a kicker to defend himself! I shall never refer to him by that name. He is officially kicker dude in my mind from this moment on. And I swear, if you ever mention the name Kelly to me – even as a jest – I'm going to make cha-cha-cha incident you had last summer look like a distant memory, got it?

Okay... so... it was a horrifying date. Like I said, I was pressured into it – goodwill and all, yadda yadda. So when he picked me up, I was pleasantly shocked. They'd done a good job cleaning him up, ya think? I mean, he wasn't super hot – hot... but he was passable hot. So I was reasonably pleased... until I took a look at the car he was supposedly taking me out in.

Uh, no way. Nuh uh, wasn't going to do it, not even for charity. *shudder* It was a 1980 Buick, rusted from the inside out – oh hell to the no. My rep was already going to be damaged going out with him I couldn't chance being seen in that beast of a car. Was he like a grandpa or something?

I insisted on driving. But first I made him take his car and park it three blocks away.

Dinner was fine. I mean, I talked and he listened. He was the perfect date. It fooled me in to thinking that there could be something between us.

It occurred to me that now that he was without headgear - and reasonably hot - that it might be kinda nice to kiss him. You know, just to see how it was. Uh, wrong. He totally sucked. I pulled away after his drool landed on my shirt and I'm like all, "DUDE! What's up?"

That's when he explained to me that he'd never kissed a girl because of his headgear and all. It was kinda sweet. A kissing virgin.

But still, there is only so much charity that I could handle. I didn't want to be the one who has to teach him. I mean, my clothes are expensive and I can’t have drool on them. So I gave him Kimberly's number and told him to call her.

I figure I'll give her a few weeks to teach him some moves - that slut must have some, after all – and when he’s properly trained, I'll steal him back.

I think your slogan kicks. But you know you could shorten it if you run out of room on the poster board: KIMBERLY IS A SLUT - VOTE CHLOE.

Caboodles of Toodles,

Heidi

PS: I saw that new hot neighbor boy finally. Can I have his number? I've never kissed someone with a tongue ring.