Journal Entry: February 8, 1999
I am a teenager, but not a teenage mother. That’s the truth. Maybe. Yes, it is. I like girls. I like cheese and bacon on my hotdogs. I like cheese and bacon on my baked potatoes. I like Mr. Potato Head. Once, I sold a Mr. Potato Head to a kindergarten teacher who let kindergartners play with it. If I were a mother, I would send my child to kindergarten with he or she was five. That is how old they would have to be. I would make their lunch and they could trade it or keep it. I don’t care if they trades lunches. I don’t care if they eat a puppy, unless it makes a mess. Don’t make a mess!