Drama, Drama, Drama: Life as a Petrelli...

Sooooo....this week has been, like I don't know the word for it, but this week has definitely been whatever it is. Dear old Bio-Grandma and Bio-Dad were big on shipping me out to Paris, cause apparently all of Grandma's "progeny" as she put it are big on the freakiness and keeping said freakiness in the Petrelli family closet. After finding out about Uncle Kinda Cute, Grandma Paris, and Bio-Father Politician and seeing the huge house that everyone but Uncle Kinda Cute lived in, my head was reeling a bit...I thought my father abducting people all over the world with a brain washing Haitian was weird, he's got nothing on the drama of my biological family. Dad's not exactly like the most faithful person on the planet and I'm not sure if my Grandmother and Uncle Kinda Cute are sane... I was totally going to leave out of the back door when I heard sobbing and random Frenchiness coming from the front of the massive house that Bio-Gram called "a pitiful little cottage in the middle of nowhere."



When I walked in, Kinda Cute was lying on a couch, all bloody and icky and stuff. Grams was all stoic and all, but dude, BFP was bawling his eyes out. I hadn't seen Uncle Kinda Cute in months and he was just lying on the big huge couch in the big huge room with a wet t-shirt since BFP was all whiny over him. I swear this family has issues with causing drama that are beyond me. Uncle Kinda Cute can do what I can do, which means he probably had something large lodged in his head that none of the Drama All-Stars were paying attention to.

I didn't think just pulling out whatever it was would satify the bizarre emotional needs of the Petrelli family, so I totally pulled an "I just wanna have a chance to say good-bye to him alone, because he meant so much to me." Then I yanked the huge piece of glass out of his head and big surprise, he woke up! And he was really, really, happy to be alive...at least I hope that's what that was.




After the great revival of Peter, me and BFP had "The Talk" about how I wasn't exactly perfect for this stage of his career and for the Petrelli good, I should think about temporarily migrating to Paris. No, I couldn't just stay out of the public eye like every other politician's illegitimate child. I have to go to an entirely different continent. Once again, a perfect example of Petrelli Family Drama. I miss my ditsy mother and my sneaky father and Mr. Muggles, who is apparently Grams' archenemy...when did she have time to make an archenemy? And who has a dog for an archenemy? Sheesh, drama.

Uncle Kinda Cute

It was soooooooo difficult to get to My Kinda Cute Petrelli's apartment. First, I had to figure out where the hell that totally bizarre Haitian had taken me in the first place. Like, I was seriously seriously lost. I didn't even know what state I was in. I guess I should have paid more attention in the car, but c'mon my Dad had been blasted in the gut by the freak sitting beside me so I was like, all "Maybe I should be really quiet cause I don't feel like getting shot again (Thanks a lot, mind reader cop person! Next time can you aim somewhere that doesn't leave bloodstain on my designer jeans? Do you know how much begging I had to do to get those?!?!? I had to go to church with my mother and they were all "We're all gifts from God" and I was all "Then what is with my schizo brother Lyle" and I had to totally do Muggles' nails...that Prima Donna, ugh! Mom was all "Baby Birdie Pink doesn't go with Muggles complexion and I was like, "So Street Prostitute red is sooooooo much better?!?!)

N E Wayz! After I figure out what state I was in I had to get my Kinda Cute Petrelli's address. I kept asking people in the street if they knew who My Kinda Cute Petrelli was, but no one had any idea what I was talking about. They were all like "Kinda Cute who?" and I was all like "Petrelli! PETRELLI!" and then some other guy was like "I know a Kinda Cute Thermopolis" and I was all like "Does Thermopolis sound anything like Petrelli" And they were like "Well...yeah." And then I was all like "Oh."

I kept asking around for like hours and hours and hours, but no one knew who Kinda Cute Petrelli was! So then I had a brilliant wonderful, absolutely genius idea: I looked in the Phone Book! And there it was under Petrelli, Kinda Cute. And I was all like "Yay!" and the people by the phone were all like "Whaaaa?' And I was all "N.M... God." So then I took a taxi to the address, but I couldn't pay the driver, cause I was kinda broke cause I hadn't planned on making a trip to New York. ( I totally would have cleaned out my savings account to go shopping on Fifth Av., but with the Dad-shooting, and driving around with a guy who was practically mute, I was kind of out of monetary options) N.E. Wayz, The Driver totally threatened me and then broke my arm as payment, he was like "Dis iz vat ve do in mine country vor teeves." And I was like "Whaaaa....whatever. I'm looking for a Kinda Cute Petrelli so just get it over with." And he did and I left and he was all "Vitch! Vitch" And I was like "Mmm kay, Thanks!"

Then I was finally at My Kinda Cute Petrelli's apartment, so I knocked on the door and this woman open it up and she was all. "Luke, I am your grandmother" and then I heard "French french french french!" And she was all like "French!" and he was all like *French* and I felt all bad when I saw the Haitian standing behind the door. I was like totally confused why my grandmother was at My Kinda Cute Petrelli's apartment but then she was like "Hah! Your Kinda Cute Petrelli is my Darling wonderful child Peter!" And I was all like...."his name's Peter?" and she was all like "Yep." and I was like "Hmmmm...then that makes him My Kinda Cute Uncle Petrelli!" And we all laughed! Well, I laughed. Everyone else just kinda glared.

P.S. Don't forget to vote for me in the Burnt Toast Diner Poetry Contest, cause I worked really, really hard on my poem and I'd hate to lose to my brainwashed father. :-D

I will NEVER be a Vivian....

OMG! I am totally gonna miss the Burnt Toast Diner. Like, the waffles there were the total hotness. My Dad totally sent me away with this Haitian guy who’s all “You must leave the Country, Claire” And I’m all like “No, I want to see that Kinda Cute Peter Petrelli again” and He was all like “No, you really can’t cause you have to be Vivian” And I was all like “No, Vivian is a freaky dork’s name!”

Come on! Vivian? Vivian? It was so horrible that I had to go in the bathroom and started banging my head against the way. You will never know how good blood is as a face Moisturizer. The hydration is insane. The absolutely bestest way to tell when you have enough is when brain matter actually starts dripping down your eyes, then it’s time to rinse. After that autopsy I was covered in it and my skin never felt better, like never ever ever. I was barefoot and naked in the middle of the morgue but my pores were so small.

N.E wayz Who gets a fake name like Vivian? I should totally be like Paris Reid Lohan. And what about Zack?!? Who will he practices his weird Wiccan rituals with? I was seriously his only supply of human blood cause he was absolutely all drama queen about actually cutting himself with a needle and I was all like “OMG, I’ve totally broken my neck before, you sissy!” Every time he wants to call up the wind or some stupid crap like that I have to lose a freakin’ limb and he’s all like “Jeez, it will grow back! Cause you’re little miss miracle grow ha ha ha LOL.” I swear if I hear Ms, Miracle Grow again I will rip one of my arms off and bash someone with it. You will not believe how absolutely sharp a shattered bone can be. I almost totally slit that jerk, Brody’s throat with my pinky toe bone.

So, the Haitian guy is like “Get on the plane, Claire, ugh, I mean Vivian, God *French that I really don’t understand* and I’m like “I totally wanna check out that fab necklace you have cause I’ve seen that freaky deaky symbol everywhere” And he was like “French French French, okay but you’re still totally getting on that plane cause the mysterious phone person said that you had to and I don’t argue with the mysterious voice. Don’t make me *French, French, French French* you” And I was like “Oh my god! Testy much!?!!??!?! And then he was all like “I haven’t taken an exam in years” and then I was so like “Got your passport!” And he was like “ I really have to go with that mischievous little blond because she’s totally my daughter, Mr. Security man with a huge gun, here let me fondle your head” And I was totally like “See you later, I have to find my Kinda Cute Petrelli cause he’s the only one who could possibly understand being a freak like me even though you suck thoughts out of people’s brain, My Kinda Cute Petrelli is the only one who will every understand the agony and angst of being me!”