March 28, 1991
Dear Diary,
I don’t have any boyfriends and have never gotten to first in my life. It’s probably because I make a brick wall jealous. I guess I care but there’s nothing I can do about it. I just think that if anyone ever read this diary, I would feel like an outcast in this family. I would not be able to trust my own mother or sister. I wish I were 22. I would live in New York City and work as an actress. I would meet some guy and fall in love and live in his penthouse. Wild! I wish I was Marcie Getleman. She is like, perfect!!! Well diary, I am glad to have you to share my private feelings with.
Love,
Lesley.
May 14, 2002
Let me tell you a little something about Marcie Perfect. Actually, I think her name now is Hope. She legally changed it after losing her mind and becoming this bipolar candy-raver-goth-S&M-sex-working-Revolting-Cocks-loving-cape-wearing bisexual. So her name is Hope now. She was the first girl in the 7th grade to get her period, wear perfume (she wore Red Door), date an older guy (Brad Kata, 10th grade!), lie about her age (17 when she was 14), give a blowjob (Steven Carter), get in a catfight (at Hebrew school with Hali Feldman); basically she was the girl that every other girl wanted to be. She was also the first girl to give me an orgasm. We were in 11th grade (she had dropped out by then) and we were at her house (mansion) and her parents were away. We ended up cooking up a bottle of ketamine — it’s best to leave out the details.
And by the way, when I was 22 I followed my dreams and landed in the Big Apple. The actress/penthouse thing seemed unappealing so I opted for the junkie/couch thing instead. That didn’t work out too well either. Instead, I turned 23.
You didn’t get to read the entry where I wrote that I wished I was 23. I wished to be living in New York City as a broke-as-fuck writer whilst being fabulously single and paying too much for a too small apartment. Some wishes really do come true!
Thanks, God!
LESLEY ARFIN
