I'm serious. He just pulled down his pants and yanked it out. You know, like, "Say hello to Mr. Happy."
-Gross! -It wasn't gross. It was kind of cool.
-So did you do it with him? -Of course.
He's a really well-known photographer. He shoots for Elle on, like, a regular basis.
It would've been majorly stupid of me to turn him down.
You are a total prostitute.
Hey, that's how things really are.
You just don't know because you're this pampered little suburban chick.
So are you. You've only been in Seventeen once, and you looked fat.
So stop acting like you're goddamn Christy Turlington!
Cunt!
I am so sick of people taking their insecurities out on me.
Oh, my God. That's the pervert who filmed me last night.
Him? Jane. No way. He's a total lunatic.
-Do you know him? -Yeah.
We were on the same lunch shift when I was in ninth grade, and he would always say the most random, weird things.
And then one day, he was just, like, gone.
And then Connie Cardullo told me that his parents had to put him in a mental institution.
-Why? What did he do? -What do you mean?
Well, they can't put you away just for saying weird things.
You total slut.
-You've got a crush on him. -What? Please! -You are defending him. You love him. You want to have, like, 10,000 of his babies. -Shut up.
Hi. My name's Ricky. I just moved next door to you.
I know. I kind of remember this creepy incident where you were filming me last night?
I didn't mean to scare you. I just think you're interesting.
Thanks. But I really don't need to have some psycho obsessing about me right now.
I'm not obsessing. I'm just curious.
What a freak. And why does he dress like a Bible salesman?
He's, like, so confident. That can't be real.
I don't believe him. I mean, he didn't even, like, look at me once.
-I'm sorry. What? -Mom, nobody said anything.