  That blasted bitch! I hereby revoke previous statements that portrayed JK Rowling in a positive light. No wonder she writes about w school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she should know--- being a total witch herself. If you don't want to know about the ending to The Order of the Phoenix, don't read on. SHE KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!
Let me paint you a picture; there is a fifteen year old girl, donned in pink pajama bottoms and a high school track hoodie, sitting on her bed in her innocent pink bedroom reading a book. All she wants is to hear about her favorite fictional fellow teen, but what does she get? Her HEART RIPPED OU! The only person Harry had left, the only person that UNDERSTOD him, the closet thing to a father Harry ever had. The man who would've done anything for him-- KILLED! For good. Gone. No more. Cease to breath. Needless to say, I cried my ass off. I cried sorrowfully for thirty minuets straight. My chest heaved with sadness. WHY DID HE HAVE TO DIE?!? I would feel less pain if Ron died, or if Hermione died... yes, even if Dumbledore himself died.
Anyone but Sirius! Oh god, I am still so incredibly sad. My dork-ism has reached cosmic proportions as I mourn the loss of a fictional character. The subsequent latter fact does not console me. It feels real, even if it isn't. I'm crying real tears, aren't I? Anyway: on to more suburbia bliss. Mom relented and finally let me get a "supercut" today. I've always wanted to go there but she insists the people are untrained and unkempt.
Instead I've always gone to the hoity-toity salon that charges $60 for a shampoo, cut, and dry. I hate the people there too. They have ridiculously hip hair styles, but not at my new favorite place Supercuts. My "stylist" was named Pam. Pam had a truly spectacular Jersey perm. Just the right overkill on Aquanet, and the right tooth-comb picked bangs. She looked like she had walked right out of a Bon Jovi musicvideo. Her outfit included fuchsia press ons, acid washed jeans and an employee polo shirt.
The haircut proceeded with a washing during which Pam poked me in the eye with her nail and allowed water to drip down my top (Pam: "It'll dry, you'll live. ) During the trimming process Pam informed me "You got a real skinny neck", "Gawd I hate Mundays... I need a cigarette break, you know?” and “It always smells funny in here”! The blow dry consisted of three minuets of lackadaisical dryer pointing. "It's hot out; it'll dry outside real good. " Affectionately... Anna 
