Okay, I've just been instructed to be less confident with myself, even though it's kinda just always been a show, (I thought that was obvious, huh, guess I am a better actress than I thought...) Okay, well I guess I better listen up and start hating myself like every single other girl in the world... But wouldn't it be somewhat annoying if I was constantly fishing for compliments and dogging myself just to look "humble"? Honestly it seems a little more fake to me to pretend to hate yourself just to get more attention... Usually when I compliment myself, someone agrees and then we're done talking about my amzing-ness; the deed is done. But all the girls who are always dissing themselves in order to look sweet and gain admiration for being so humble and so sadly self conscious; they just drag it on and on for waaaay longer than my compliments ever could go. They will NEVER admit that they like any part of themselves, even if they are drop dead gorgeous. And I'm sorry, but it just gets so fucking annoying to me, and it seems like the type of people who are worth getting compliments from, are the type of people who can see through a seemingly sweet-girl act for what it really is: the worst kind of shameless self-promotion, the kind that tricks the audience into thinking it's the opposite of self-promotion. Sorry girls, but dissing yourself is only cool in stand-up comedy. You're just an obvious idiot if you're an attractive person and you think you're fooling anyone under the guise of being "ugly" or, even more commonly, "fat". You're only as fat as your height, gals! I weigh 105 lbs, and I am considered hot. BUT I am 5 foot two, which is considered short AF, so it only makes sense that 105 is a decent weight for my height. But if you are taller than that (chances are you are), then you have to add some pounds for every extra inch in height! A petty (ugly) girl once asked what pants size I am, and when I responded "it varies from double zero to one", she rudely laughed out loud and said, "What?! But size SIX is considered the 'perfect woman size!'" And, I am actually fucking humble enough to where I didn't argue with her. I could have pointed out that she is taller than me; I could have pointed out that her body doesn't matter because her face is terrible; I could have pointed out that she can't even be considered a 'butterface', because her face sucks too!; I could've pointed out that a stupid number on a tag doesn't hold up against the actual way your body looks in real life!; but most importantly, I could've pointed out that I frankly don't give a fuck what kind of criticism a butt-ugly, jealous girl has for my body size... But turns out that I AM the bigger person after all, because all I ended up saying was, "Oh, that's okay, I'm not trying to be the 'perfect girl' anyways." She was silent and gave me a look... I feel like I won, but at the same time, FUCK THAT BITCH, because deep down, even I went to sleep that night fighting tears just due to worrying about being 'too small'... Like reverting back to fucking sixth grade when my two best friends had anorexia and double D's, and I ate food constantly in front of everyone but I was still made fun of for being 'anorexic', because I had the oh-so-cruel fate of being a 'late-bloomer'... The absolute, hands-down, WORST curse a middle school girl can receive... A pretty face and a happy smile apparently doesn't match up against boobs, sooooo. Yeah that flat-chested part of my life REALLY left scars maybe, and thankfully for a long time now I have been happy with my body (since I got boobs, haha), but every now and then someone is bitter about my size or weight, or god forbid chest size, and it just still cuts to the core just like it always did... The only difference is that it doesn't happen as often now that I have at least *something* to show upstairs... Not that I feel like I have "enough", but at least it's better than 6th grade... Anyways, I put on a show to make people forget that I'm not the most beautiful girl in the world... Well, I guess so much for faking it till ya make it... Guess I'll either become actually anorexic now, or eat my way up to a plump size 6... Cool.

Well Xanga, we must be somewhere in May, because the world is spinning round and round out of control again, and sweet, sweet, sweeeet summer chaos is on the brink again. Yes, my world seems to be rolling back to crazy-normal, and for the first time since I don't remember when, I couldn't be happier now to be back "in trouble again"... And I, Jack! The Pumpkin-King... Oh wait, no, wrong story. Anywho! I think perhaps that Heina might have just found her Sancho... And maaaaan, does Carlton wanna pop a cap in Sancho! Hahahaha, I've been notably upset about my dilemma, but now that I'm in the one place where no one will ever find me, I must say that this drama is just plain fucking fun! And although I've been singing a different song to everyone else, now that I'm in the one place where I never have to apologize out of will, let me just go ahead and say that I'm not sorry. I'm happy again. Because I'm in trouble again. Which makes me Shelley Baker Trouble Maker again. Which makes me happy again. Again. I'm having fun again. And I don't necessarily agree that it is "best" if I stop. I mean, maybe continuing this might hurt some other people, but if I quit now my life would go back to boring and I would go back to not having any type of trouble to cause, and everyone knows that that is the one dilemma even I can't make light of.

Well, you only need the light when it's burning low,
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow,
Only know you love her when you let her go.

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go...
And you let her go.

Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow, and they go so fast
You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you'll understand why
Everything you touch surely dies

But you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go

Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
'Cause love comes slow, and it goes so fast

Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
Cause you loved her too much, and you dived too deep

Well you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go ooooh ooooh oh no

And you let her go
ooooh ooooh oh no

Well you let her go

ooooh ooooh oh no

Cause you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go

Cause you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go

And you let her go

Consider this your birthday card... Here goes-

No, no one will ever read this;
no, no one will ever know;
that tonight at 8:42,
4 strange years ago,
I fell in love with a boy;
a boy of which I'll never know...
And though it's crazy,
it gets tough and weird;
he was my baby,
my brave one in tears...
I gave him up;
watched him fade away;
hospital doors closed in the black night,
and it began to rain...
They'll bring him up,
and they'll see him grow,
but these are the things,
that they'll never know...
Like the way it rained then,
and the way the doors closed,
and the way that I ended,
that chapter I wrote...
And never re-wrote...
So here I am writing what
no one will read and no one will know,
oh baby, that it's your birthday...
Or the way those doors closed..

[Dedicated to Chance, aka Teo!; Love, Mommy]
Happy birthday, Mateo Baker Birk-Haskell,
have a happy 4th birthday!!

I am Shelley Baker,
and I am an enigma..

I impress cops by flipping chairs in solitary confinement and I don't give a fuck.
As for Starbucks-survival tips?... Step one: Arm yourself with the cheapest wine possible at Walmart. Nowhere else. It has to be Wally, and it has to be shitty. I'm not talking Franzia, that shit's good and you all know it. I mean, go buy yourself one or two or ten of those pretty little juice-boxes of Vendange wine, and make sure your gag reflex is well-practiced beforehand. Step two: Go to a Starbucks... This is a pretty self explanatory step. Step three: Head straight for the bathroom, with the wine tucked securely into your pocket or purse or vagina. Step four: Wait, no. Oops. First, buy a drink. Make sure it