Female Monologues
• • •
COMEDY
SAM
I hate this. I don’t want to do this. I know everyone my age does this, but so what? I didn’t realize how hard it would be — aah! — to control the — whoa — speed and that you don’t need to — what? — okay, okay — turn the wheel very much. Okay. I think I’m getting the hang — whatwhatwhatwhat?!?! Oh God! Dad! How could you — dear Lord! I am completely serious. That is not taking the Lord’s name in vain ’cause I was actually terrified for my life there, Dad. Turn where? (Beat.) Here? Dad, no! Okay, okay — don’t yell. Don’t yell! I’ve never done this before! I didn’t even want to … We are on a major highway. This is way too fast for me! I can’t control the speed. (Beat.) What? What? Now? Aaah!
Dad, we almost died. I am never, never driving a car. Could you even tell me two seconds before we had to make a turn? (Beat.) Don’t yell at me. Don’t even. You are so fired.
PAIGE
I want peace on earth. And to be a model. And to graduate from college and become a pediatrician. I am an organ donor. Or I would be, if it came up. I love children. And I promise to be a good role model for children everywhere. And that is why, Mr. Davis, I should be Employee of the Month. I show up on time, too, and do my work in a timely and efficient manner. (Beat.) This would look really good on my college application. I could really, really use a raise, too. I’ll grovel. I’ll be your best friend. (Beat.) No, I won’t do garbage duty. That’s disgusting. Come on! I am model employee and a possible actual model as well, if I get a growth spurt. Which I plan on. Five inches.
Thank you! My picture is going to look so good on this wall. I am going to be the best Employee of the Month ever. I swear.
AMY
Yeah, what do you want? (Beat.) Sorry, sir. What may I get you? (Beat.) Listen, maybe my attitude is bad. Have you ever had to stand on your feet for twelve hours, hauling huge trays over your head, walking in and out of a kitchen that’s about 150 degrees? I didn’t think so. I didn’t think you could have or you would have a little more respect for me. Are you really so dumb that you think that all those perky waitresses actually think you’re really nice and cute? They want your money.
Hey, I’m just being direct. I don’t pull any punches. I’m honest. Probably the only honest waitress you’ll ever meet. And maybe you don’t like me. Fine. But if you order some time in this century, I’ll get your food while it’s hot. That’s my job. Not flirting with some middle-aged, divorced dude who still wears loafers with no socks. So, let’s go back to the beginning. What do you want?
POPPY
He is so out of my league. I am destined to pine in solitude. My love will be unrequited for all time. They say these are the best years of our lives. It has to get better than this. Just has to. Why would anyone like high school? It’s scary to think about. I guess those people were, like, the 1 percent of the population who were the beautiful people. And I guess those same people are successful throughout life because we’re actually quoting them. Repeating their so-called wise words about this being such a great time in life.
Isn’t that the most depressing thought ever? Please don’t tell me the most popular people have influence forever and maybe actually have brains. The only thing that gets me through the day is thinking that those people will someday get what’s coming to them and the meek will inherit. “We shall overcome” and all that. It’s only fair, right?
VICTORIA
Look at this. I can’t go. (Beat.) My hair! Don’t be nice; this is serious! It doesn’t look remotely fine! I’m about to “bump into” the hottest guy in school and I cannot go looking like a freak! (Beat.) It won’t be straight and it won’t be curly. It’s just a wreck. I hate humidity! It’s wrecking everything.
It’s fate, isn’t it. It’s the universe telling me this is not to be. I am being punished for some bad thing I did years ago — that time I cut my sister’s hair when I was seven. Bad karma. (Beat.) I know I’m overreacting! That’s the worst part! I am totally lucid. But here’s the thing. I’ve been planning this and getting my courage up for this forever. I promised myself. I made a goal that if I managed to get into shape I would ask Jamie out. This has taken all of my strength to get to this point. And now my hair’s ruined it. It’s telling me I’m not good enough still. I’m not worthy. I hate you, horrible hair! I hate you!
FRANCESCA
Glue, okay? I use glue. Does everyone hear that? I use glue to get my hair like this!
I am more than my hair. Why is it that no one can comment on anything else in my presence? I do art. I am a photographer. I have lots of interests. Music. I’ve been to three concerts in the past month. I read! And yet all anyone can ever say is, “What’s up with your hair?” “How do you get it to go like that?” “Does it hurt to sleep?” Honestly, you people are so shallow. This hair takes me five minutes to do in the morning. Do you think this is my only statement to the world? And why are people scared of me? Pointy hair equals evil! Beware the devil child!
Your hair isn’t so great either. I mean, what is that — a helmet? Why is my hair ugly and yours is great? You look horrible. I should be asking you why you do your hair like that. Is it a perm or did you stick your finger in a light socket? See? See? You don’t like it either!
KAREN
You look great in that T-shirt. You do. Sexy.
I love your band. Yeah. I heard you at Jane Harper’s birthday party. You rocked.
You’re wearing sneakers! They are my footwear of choice. Definitely.
So … what do you think of me?
I don’t know. Like what do you think of what I’m wearing?
“Fine”? Is that the best you can do? I’m trying to seduce you, in case you haven’t noticed. You could at least have the courtesy to respond a little. Pretend you are a little interested in what I’m saying, who I am as a person, my appearance.
What planet do you come from? If I came on any stronger, I’d be pregnant! Could you honestly not tell?
Oh. So now you know. So?
Oh my God, I am so embarrassed.
TARA
I just met the most beautiful man on the dance floor. Over there. (Beat.) Yeah, the one with the sparkly mascara. (Beat.) He is not gay. I asked. He just likes makeup. Be a little open-minded.
I’ve always thought one of the best things about being gay must be the ability to share a wardrobe. Can you imagine? And with that guy, Thom, I could have a boyfriend and all the advantages of being a lesbian. It’s a win-win situation. Think about it. And he’s cute, don’t you think? Really beautiful. He seems so sweet. (Beat.) He’s not gay! Honestly, I grilled him on the subject. He said he just likes to wear pretty things. Like a transvestite. They’re hetero. Don’t you think a guy who thinks about what girls do and what they think is going to be a more sensitive, cool person to be around?
I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy. But it makes sense to me. I like him. I’m going for it. I may regret it later, but I live in the moment.
GRACE
You did not just touch me. You did not. Oh my God. I am going to have to shower forever now. Did I ever give you any indication that you could touch me? No. No, I didn’t. I don’t like you. (Beat.) This is not playing hard to get. Read my lips: I don’t like you.
I am not holding a grudge. I mean, yes. I am and I’m not. (Beat.) I am still disgusted by the incident in the gym. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. The one where … Fine. You’re going to make me say it. The one where you pulled down my gym shorts.
Yes, that was in sixth grade. Duh. I was there, dork. Anyhow, I am still mad at you for that. But that is not the only reason why you disgust me. You disgust me because … you just do!
You are not going to kiss me. No, you’re not. No — oh, okay. Whatever.
BRIANA
How come no one ever likes me? I’m smart, funny, not ugly. I mean, even ugly people have boyfriends. I’ve seen them.
Except, gross guys approach me. Today, some guy walked past me and said “Nice tits.” What is that? Was that a compliment? I don’t think so. I think it was meant to make me feel bad about myself, to make me feel small. And humiliated. And terrible enough to think that gross guy was the best I can do.
So maybe that’s my problem. I think I’m better than that tits man. The male persons who pay attention to me are all disgusting rejects. Maybe someday I’ll have to face it and settle.
But today is not that day. Maybe the day before the prom. Maybe that day I’ll be desperate enough to smile and giggle at that vile slob. (Beat.) Oh God. I fear that day!
RITA
The prom is the most important event of our lives. Ever! Learning to walk doesn’t compare. Can we agree on this point? (Beat.) Okay. So, this is the most important event of our lives to date and I don’t even have a date. And I can’t find this dress I want that’s in this magazine.
You are so lucky you have Kyle. Even if he’s not your first choice, you’ll have someone to go with. A fallback. Like applying to an Ivy League school but knowing you’ll get into state college if nothing else works out. Kyle is your state college. And like state college, not bad. Stable. Honest. Trustworthy. There when you need it. Attractive, if not lush and perfectly groomed. At this point, I’d consider a community college. Night school. Anything.
No. Not Brian. No. I’m not that desperate yet. I know he likes me. He’s a GED program. For people who had to drop out of second grade because they live in the mountains and got snowed in and haven’t had hot water for the past ten years. I’m mean, I know. (Beat.) Can I have Kyle if you don’t want him?
RHONDA
(Working out.) Why am I doing this? (Beat.) It’s simple — revenge. That loser pig of a boyfriend must pay for cheating on me. I was so good to him. So I must make him feel pain and remorse. This seemed like the best way to do it. Get in shape. Look hot so he’ll be so sorry he ever wronged me and let me go. Pig. He’ll pay. Plus, it has the added benefit of making me attractive to others, giving me more energy, and (Punching the air.) releasing my anger! That pig!
I still have a way to go before I’m, like, Catherine Zeta-Jones hot, but I’m getting there. And I will make it. I have to. I just want to see him stunned and aroused by my magnificence.
Before I started doing this, I felt worthless and had uncontrollable anger, like the Hulk. Now, I feel great. I highly recommend it. And if anyone ever does me wrong again, I will kick their ass!
RAIN
Hi, want a cookie? I made them myself. Just for you. (Beat.) Why? Because you’re a very special person. I like you lots.
No, I don’t hold a grudge. Why would I do that? Because we went out a few times and it didn’t work out? Please. That was so minor. At least to me. (Beat.) I mean, do you have any … feelings for me? No? Then we’re fine, right?
So. Have a little cookie. Go on. They’re good. (Beat.) That’s right. Mmmm. Have more.
That should make you feel regular. (Beat.) What does that mean? That means those cookies — keep eating — are chockful of delicious laxatives.
Have a nice day!
SERENA
Don’t even play me like that. No. No. No. No. You are not talking; I am talking here. Don’t even interrupt me. No. No. No. No. You will listen. (Beat.) Because I am your girlfriend, that’s why. Because I told you to. Do you want to ever see me again? Do you want to keep your reputation? Because I can destroy it like that and you know it. (Beat.) I can tell people how you cried when I said I would break up with you. I still might. Keep it up, mister. Keep it up. You are dead to me. Get out of my face now, crybaby. (Beat.) No. No. No. No. I need a man. I don’t need you. Get your sorry, flat butt away from me now.
You heard me.
KIM
This is cellulite, isn’t it? I am way too young for this. What did I do to deserve this? If I look like this now, what am I going to look like at forty?
I always wanted to be in those “fabulous at forty” ads. Until today, I thought I would get better with the years. Let’s face it, up to now the years haven’t been great. I’ve had glasses, braces, zits, been fat — now this. This is way beyond baby fat.
Only being very, very rich will save me. I need to be Julia Roberts or something. Only I never will because — the cellulite! So, I have to marry some ugly rich guy like Donald Trump. I don’t think I could. Those moles, that hair! I’m doomed. Without mega bucks I can’t have the hot seaweed wrap to shrink my lumpy fat!
Exercise? You’ve got to be joking. Pass me the Chunky Monkey. I need to console myself.
SCARLETT
To overpower your attacker, you want to quickly, instinctively go after certain body parts. Eyes, palm to the nose, fist to the throat. If you’re wearing heels, slam them into the bridge of a foot. Knees are vulnerable. As is the groin area. Be active. Be vigilant. Never let an attacker take you to another location. Then you’re screwed.
Okay, let’s do a little work here. Today our volunteer is Kevin. Thank you for coming today, Kevin. You’re doing a wonderful thing for womankind. (Beat.) Bernice, will you join Kevin up here? (Beat.) Okay, Kevin. Attack Bernice. (Beat.) No, really. Go ahead. Bernice can take care of herself, can’t you Bernice? Go ahead, Kevin.
Oh, God, Kevin! Are you okay? Bernice, well done! Excellent work! Kevin? (Beat.) Kevin? You are wearing a cup, aren’t you?
CHARLIZE
I have to stay with Chad. I have to. (Beat.) I don’t even know if things would ever work out with Jeff. I hardly know him. (Beat.) It’s just that we have such great conversations. I can’t help thinking, “What if?” But I can’t risk it. It could be a terrible mistake and where would that leave me? Having lost two great guys and being totally alone. (Beat.) Well, sure, I’d have you, you’re my best friend, but I’d have no boyfriend. I’m not one of those girls who can go without a boyfriend. I get so lonely. I’m not a strong person.
Plus, why should I? This might sound egotistical, but I don’t need to. I have Chad. And he’s crazy about me. He tells me so all the time. I just can’t hurt him. He’s so terrific. (Beat.) And … still … there’s Jeff. There’s an undeniable attraction.
Listen, Deb, would it really be so awful to go on one date with Jeff that Chad wouldn’t know about? I wouldn’t do anything and maybe then I’d know if I should really be with Jeff instead.
Why is life so hard? Why are there so many decisions to make? And so many adorable boys to choose from?
SHANNON
Yeah, I’m twenty-one and my friend here is twenty-two. People always tell us we look young. It’s kind of embarrassing. We used to be gymnasts, so we’re short for our age. But we’re totally mature. (Beat.) My birthday? Oh, April 27th. (Beat.) What year? That’s a strange question. Can’t you do the math? I don’t mean to make you feel stupid, but it’s totally obvious that I was born in nineteen … eighty … one. (Beat.) What do you mean “wrong”? I think I’d know the year I was born.
Of course that would make me twenty-three. That’s how old I said I was. Now can you just let me in so I can meet up with my twenty-five-year-old boyfriend who was born in nineteen eighty-three? I mean, nineteen eighty — seventy-nine? He’s going to buy me a beer and we are going to dance in an adult, mature way. Like the lambada, maybe.
I am offended! I mean … flattered since you think I am so young. Are you hitting on me? How old do you think I am anyway? (Beat.) Fourteen? Now that is just insulting. Excuse me. My friend and I going to find a cool club with a smart doorman now who knows that a twenty-one year old woman was born in nineteen eighty … Whatever! Let’s go, Amanda.
GEORGEANNE
It’s weird how it happened. I thought it would be the end of my life. I did. You know how things are when you’re a kid. Everything is so important. And you think everyone is looking at you. What am I saying, I still feel that way! Anyhow, I wanted to disappear. Forever.
Then something so — unbelievable — happened. I still don’t really understand it. Some people, some girls, thought it was cool. That I developed so early. Here I was, not quite eleven, the only girl who needed a bra. I was trying to wear baggy clothes and pretend it never happened, and they were dying to catch up. I guess the grass is always greener … (Beat.) We have to spend the rest of our lives dealing with this crap. Why would you ever want to start early? They’re just these — things — attached to me. How did they get there? Why? You have no idea how awful gym class can be.
I’m totally jealous. I wish I was a man. Now you have got it good. Except for those dangling penis things. I don’t quite get that.
SUMMER
You men and your thingamajigs. It’s absurd. We’ve got things, too, women, but we don’t go around all day and night thinking about our things. (Beat.) Okay, okay, we think about our stuff — are they big enough, do they bounce too much, are they saggy, is so-and-so looking at them — but it isn’t so all consuming. (Beat.) Okay, maybe at certain times, in certain places, wearing certain clothes, they can become a prominent focus. But let’s face it; our protruding things aren’t as weird as yours. I don’t know how you sit.
Our things are not weird! (Beat.) That is so gross. They are not milk makers. They’re … well, yes, but … That is really weird. And disturbing. I don’t know what I’d do if milk … oh my God, that is the grossest thing ever.
I hope you’re happy. I’m a freak!
VIVICA
I’m making a list of things I’ll never do again, so I don’t forget. Never will I drink orange juice after brushing my teeth. Mint and orange do not go together. Never will I wear a strapless bra and dance. Never will I attempt to improvise a phone call with someone I like. Never drive with Dad in the passenger seat. Never watch those forensic shows right before bed.
There are no clear answers, though, about what I should do. That part really has me stumped. It’s funny. It’s somewhat clear to see what other people ought to do. Who they might be in the future. What clothes they shouldn’t wear. But when it’s you, everything gets so fuzzy. But we’re supposed to figure it out for ourselves. How come? That takes so long. Why don’t I just ask you? (Beat.) What should I do with my life? Do these pants make me look fat?
EMILIA
Excuuuse me? Is anyone in there? Listen, I know you’re in there. (Beat.) Maybe you think this is funny, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I’ve been waiting for, like, ten minutes now. (Beat.) Are you, um, sick? Should I call someone? (Beat.) My God, what is your problem? Do you think you’re the most important person in the world? Well, news flash, you’re not. (Beat.) I drank a cranberry juice and three diet cokes. I’ve been dancing for HOURS. Jumping up and down. I have to go. This is serious.
I can see your shoes! And, by the way, they are not very nice. Man-shoes. They make your legs look fat!
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Really. I’m in distress. I don’t know what I’m saying. (Beat.) Give me a break. Please. Please. I’m begging you. I am going to pee my pants. And they are new. Wait. (Beat.) Oh, my God. They are men’s shoes, aren’t they? And, and — there’s two of you in there! Oh my God, you’re — doing it, aren’t you? Oh — my — God. This place is filthy! Have some dignity. I can’t believe — in public? Um, could you — are you almost — I have to go! Get out!
NINA
Let me give you some advice. Track. Lacrosse will get you a broken nose or a knee operation, not to mention all the running. (Beat.) No, that’s where you’re wrong. You don’t run that much in track. Work with me, okay? We go out to run in the woods and on the local streets. Right? Who’s around? Just us. Only two or three people actually like to run and they know if they told anyone we’d kill them.
Here’s another tip: hurdles. I have gotten a varsity letter since my freshman year thanks to hurdles. And I am not the least bit athletic. Not even a little. No one does hurdles. Just Amy and me. Amy is good. She gets first place. I am terrible. I come in second or third, if another school has a hurdler, too, which they usually don’t. I get in the newspaper and everything. I knock almost all of them down and take, like, twenty minutes to finish the course. But it doesn’t matter. I’m in second place bam like that. And you don’t ever vomit like the runners do. Easy. When I cross that finish line, I do a little victory lap, arms in the air, running in slo-mo, like a movie. It’s really funny. ’Cause I suck.
Hurdles. And don’t tell anyone else or you’ll blow the whole thing.
BRITT
Are you okay?
I didn’t mean to. I think she’s hurt! Competition just gets the best of me. Seriously, I am totally sorry. It looks like her nose is broken. Yuck! What should we do?
No, coach, you can’t take me out of the game. It’s not my fault. It’s the game’s fault. Maybe girls shouldn’t brandish sticks. I was just doing my job; holding up my part for the team. (Beat.) I’m the best player! This is suicide. Listen, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll visit that girl, whoever she is, in the hospital. Believe me, I didn’t mean for it to happen. And this is a pivotal game for us.
You are making the biggest mistake of your life! Her nose was ugly to begin with!
MEG
Thanks for visiting me, Lily. It hurts. I don’t know why people would do this on purpose. It’s not just my nose that hurts; everything hurts. I move my big toe and you can’t imagine the pain I feel.
So, tell me the truth. I can see it in your face. I’m a hideous freak, aren’t I? This is the most normal I’ve looked for weeks. Who knew my life would end at fifteen? And all because I played field hockey, the most unwatched and unrewarding sport ever. It’s not like you can win a gold medal in it or anything. (Beat.) You think so? I’ve never heard of an Olympic field hockey team. Well, still, I’m never going to play it again. I just got into it in the first place because I thought the skirts were cute.
Well, tennis has short skirts, too. And much more distance between the players. I’ve got to pick up the pieces of my ruined life and move on. Plus, there are lots of shiny tennis awards to be won.
Thanks for visiting. I feel so much better now!
TANYA
I’d love to live back when women wore big, beautiful dresses. Everyone was so much more civilized. They went to balls and danced the night away. Can you imagine, Zoë? So romantic. Men were chivalrous and thought about what they said and did, trying to woo women. Oh, to be wooed! Kissed on the hand. Loads of sweet talk. Those were the days.
They did not throw pee and crap out the windows! Come on. That’s nasty.
I don’t believe you! You would not pee in a pot in the middle of a room. Well, I know they didn’t have indoor plumbing, but they had dignity!
So what if they got married young. (Beat.) Well, I could marry an older man. Sure. There are lots of hot guys who are older than me. Practically everyone on TV and in the movies is older than us. I could marry one of them. (Beat.) No, I wouldn’t marry someone my dad’s age or someone ugly. I wouldn’t have to. I would be rich and beautiful.
Why? Because I said so. Why do you have to be such a pig, Zoë? Can’t I just have my one romantic dream without you crapping it up?
MAURA
I’ve always wanted to have a guy paint my toenails. Don’t know why. It’s not like I have some kind of foot-fetish thing. It’s more like it’s romantic somehow. And powerful. He’s doing for you. You just get to sit back and watch him serve you. It must have been great to be a queen. (Beat.) Sure, yeah, there are queens still but it’s not the same. Besides, I’m certainly not the next in line for any throne. I think it would have come up by now. But how funny would that be? “Maura Finkelman, the royal family of England all just went crazy at once. It’s a national crisis. You, Miss Finkelman, (or should I say Your Majesty) happen to be the next in line for the throne.”
First thing I’d do? Get some servants to cook for me and do my laundry. (Beat.) They wouldn’t be slaves! Please, I’d hire them. Pay them a salary. But I wouldn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do anymore. And I’d get some stud to paint my toenails. (Beat.) I would. So would you. Don’t deny it.
CHLOE
Argh! I hate these perfume samples in magazines. They are so nasty. I have a really acute sense of smell. I can’t stand anything that smells unclean. Why do unscented deodorants smell like sweat? It makes no sense. And why would anyone want to smell like musk? It makes you smell like a French whore. Why do people say that anyway? Are French whores any stinkier than whores from other countries?
Do you think there’s life on other planets? And how come those aliens on Star Trek all have different faces but they still have all the same body parts? Like none of them have tentacles instead of legs. (Beat.) I said tentacles, not testicles.
Honestly. You need to start thinking serious thoughts and having opinions about the world, Lori.
DANICA
Summer is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s hot. You have to wear shorts and tank tops. I hate shorts. I feel like my butt is hanging out of the bottom of them for a good two weeks before I get used to them. You have to shave all the time. God, I hate that. You have to think about which bra you wear because otherwise the straps will show depending on which shirt you put on. Give me cold weather, sweaters, layers, long pants anytime! Don’t even get me started on swimwear. We could be here for weeks.
Oh God, they’re coming over. Try to look casual. Try to look like you’re not sweating and your armpits don’t stink.
BROOKE
You call this being a friend? Being supportive? We are a mess. We are losers! I hate us. Here we are at a café, having polished off a piece of chocolate cake each! À la mode, no less! What’s wrong with us?
And all the while, as we stuff our faces, we talk about how we’re fat and we never get dates and no one likes us — duh! How can we be so retarded? No, sorry. That is a total insult to retarded people. They have way more sense than us.
We are so screwed up. How can we stop the cycle? Why is eating so damn much fun? It just feels so chummy, so friendly.
Why isn’t jogging fun? It’s just not. I don’t know how we can be expected to be social and thin at the same time. It’s totally unrealistic.
KELLY
Oh my God. You know how that old Indian guy behind the counter kind of freaks me out? Did I not tell you that? (Beat.) Well, one day he starts singing Indian love songs to me. Telling me how they are so beautiful. It’s was totally embarrassing and weird.
So, today I go in there and I’m ordering. Trying to be unfriendly so he won’t start singing or anything. So, everything’s going fine. I’m not even making eye contact. And I go to pay. $2.43. And I’ve got a twenty. I hand him my bill and he says, “Singles?” So, I’m like, “Are you asking me if I’m single? ’Cause I’m not!” And he says, “Do you have any singles? Instead of a twenty dollar bill?” Color me mortified. I could not have been more humiliated. But it gets worse!
This guy, instead of seeing my revulsion at thinking he’s hitting on me, he thinks I have a crush on him or something. He gets this goofy smile on his face. So now I can never go back there. Even though it’s the closest coffee shop from my house. Gross.
INDIRA
I’m not going to school. You can’t make me. I feel like bugs are crawling all over me. My hair is sticking to my face. I feel greasy and my legs are stubbly. Old sweat from yesterday is stuck to me. No way.
Until we have hot water, I am not leaving this house. (Beat.) If there were a fire, maybe I’d leave. But otherwise, no. Spending hours like this is inhuman. I’m a beast.
I am a strong person. I can take criticism, even mocking. But this … you can’t make me. (Beat.) This may sound crazy, but I actually like school most of the time. I’m a good student. I get along with people mostly. But filth I cannot take.
Give me a break and let me get my own way just this once. (Beat.) Remember what I was younger and you’d nag me to take a bath? See how I’ve grown as a human being? You should be proud of me. How I take pride in my appearance and have good hygiene habits. Good kid raising, Mom. Way to go!
I will be telling my therapist about this years from now. You know that?
JILL
Are you packing your stuffed animals? What do you think other people do? It’s college and it means we’re becoming adults. So … no?
But I want to keep Oliver the Otter with me! He’s been my faithful companion for so many years.
But … we will be independent and there’s a possibility of having guys in our rooms, so we don’t want to look like little kids. So … no. The critters stay at home.
Except … I’ve never spent a night without Oliver. He’s warded off evil spirits for eighteen years now. He’s listened to my every problem. Leaving him here with my parents might actually be dangerous. What if he starts blabbing? I don’t know that I can trust him alone here with so many deep, dark secrets.
Like what? None of your business! Don’t ask him — he works for me. Give him to me now. Oliver — you’re going to college!