Rum Raisin 11: California Girls
Title: California Girls
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rum raisin 11 (messenger), fresh strawberries (this one), cookie crumbs (an elaboration of this).
Word Count: 1076
Rating: G
Summary: Rachel elaborates on her dislike for southern California via Katy Perry.
Notes: It may be helpful, for those of you familiar with LA and the Inland Empire, to note that Rachel lives in Orange County. Character opinions are not necessarily shared by the author.
Finally. Finally. She was really out of California now.
Rachel stared out the cab window at the buildings and the streets and the people, at the grey, overcast skies and the raindrops spattering on the windshield. Sure, it wasn't the traditional image of spring break: not a beach or bikini to be seen. But by the same token, it was as far from California as it was possible to be, and Ivy, her pale skin practically glowing in the right-hand seat, was just as far from looking Californian.
A whole week with nothing of LA or Orange County or the West Coast, just the chill air of March in New York City. Center of the world. Rachel leaned happily against the window.
And sat bolt upright as That Song came on the radio.
"Oh, no," she said, and then, "Turn it off! Change the station! Something!"
The cab driver looked at her as if she was insane, and when she turned to get Ivy's support, her cousin was looking at her in a very similar way. "Rach?" Ivy asked, carefully. "You okay?"
"I hate this song!" Rachel exclaimed. "Turn it off already."
The taxi driver made no such move.
"I dunno," Ivy said, thoughtfully. "It's kind of catchy. Daisy dukes, bikinis on top..."
Rachel let out a sound that was half-snarl and half-yelp, and earned herself another slightly frightened look from the taxi driver. "Don't you dare! Shut up right now!"
"It's just a song, Rach," Ivy said. "Seriously, it'll be over in a few minutes."
"It implies that all Californian girls are sluts," Rachel said, and slouched back against the window. "Like every single other song about California ever. And it's overplayed. And," she added the finishing touch, "it spells "girl" with a u, for God's sake."
Ivy laughed. "Yeah, that pisses Gina off too."
"God, I hate Katy Perry," Rachel said, with feeling. "And California. The two of them together is just too much."
"Yeah, why do you hate it so much? Aunt Cess loves it."
Rachel gave her cousin a twisted smile. "As if that wasn't reason enough."
"I don't get your hatred for Aunt Cess either," Ivy said, "but whatever, none of my beeswax. You hate California because..."
Rachel opened her mouth, then shut it again. After a moment, she said, "You know, I think you're the first person who's asked me directly."
"I'm a nosy bitch," Ivy said, cheerfully, and got a giggle out of her cousin. "Stop ducking the question."
"Fine." Rachel tugged a curl of hair loose from her ponytail and started winding it around her finger. "I don't like the weather, the smog, the noise, or the shallow plastic Barbie dolls who call themselves my classmates."
"Ahhhh," Ivy said, on a long breath. "School. I should've guessed."
"Oh, that's only half of it," Rachel said, starting to get into the spirit of it. "It's like another world out there. Nobody takes anything seriously, because they've all got too much money to realize that real life means something. I mean, some of my classmates go to freaking Cancun on the weekends. The weekends. Their parents pick up millions of dollars for like, three weeks of work a year. It's like nobody even cares about anything outside their perfect little bubble-worlds, and they get really pissed off if you even think about bursting those bubbles."
Ivy's eyebrows climbed steadily up her forehead during this rant; about halfway through, they couldn't go any higher, so she started chewing on her lower lip instead. "Damn. You're serious about this."
"Duh," Rachel said. "Why'd you think I wasn't?"
Ivy shrugged. "Grass is greener syndrome? I mean, Summer seems to think that Washington DC is paradise."
Rachel had been there on a class trip once. "Ew. No."
"Yeah."
"Summer's Summer, though," she said, and at the look on Ivy's face, hastily added, "Not that that's wrong or anything, it's just that she doesn't live on Planet Earth most of the time. She's allowed to have some illusions."
"Yeah, okay," Ivy said, her tone deeply disapproving. She shook her head, and, in a much nicer voice, added, "My friend Olivia was born in the Inland Empire, though, and she doesn't seem to hate it nearly as much. And let's face it, you basically live in paradise."
Rachel shook her head. "It's not paradise. It looks that way from the outside, maybe, but it is so not paradise." She exhaled a long sigh. "At least people here are real, you know?"
"I believe you," Ivy said. "If only because you've been coming here for spring break since you were... what, thirteen?"
"Twelve," Rachel said. Being rich did have some perks.
"Fair enough." They rode in silence for a while, then Ivy added, "I'll give you overplayed and misspelling 'girl,' but you have to admit that it's a fun song."
Caught drifting, Rachel stared at her for a moment before she remembered what they were talking about. "Oh! Katy Perry! I don't have to admit any such thing. And you won't think so once you've seen the video anyway."
"I have seen the video," Ivy said, "and it didn't affect my position on the song at all because it has nothing to do with the song. Except for the fact that they both involve beaches, I guess."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "It's inextricably tied to the song. It's this shiny plastic world where nothing ever matters and everything's made of candy. It's the music video version of what everybody thinks." She paused. "And it's really, really badly designed."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ivy said. "I'll have you know that I like watching Katy Perry no matter how badly dressed she is. She's pretty cute."
There was a pause, broken only by the taxi driver honking maniacally at someone and the latest pop tart's latest hit blaring out of the radio. "You don't mean that," Rachel said, finally.
Ivy raised her eyebrows again. "I do, actually. You think Zooey Deschanel is cute, don't you? Katy Perry looks eerily like her, so how is she not cute?"
"If you're going to bring logic into this, I have nothing to say to you," Rachel said, with great dignity, and turned to face the window. Ivy laughed again, but politely settled into silence.
It was still going to be an awesome spring break, Rachel decided. She was out of that stupid plastic Candyland dream world.
She just wouldn't listen to the radio.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rum raisin 11 (messenger), fresh strawberries (this one), cookie crumbs (an elaboration of this).
Word Count: 1076
Rating: G
Summary: Rachel elaborates on her dislike for southern California via Katy Perry.
Notes: It may be helpful, for those of you familiar with LA and the Inland Empire, to note that Rachel lives in Orange County. Character opinions are not necessarily shared by the author.
Finally. Finally. She was really out of California now.
Rachel stared out the cab window at the buildings and the streets and the people, at the grey, overcast skies and the raindrops spattering on the windshield. Sure, it wasn't the traditional image of spring break: not a beach or bikini to be seen. But by the same token, it was as far from California as it was possible to be, and Ivy, her pale skin practically glowing in the right-hand seat, was just as far from looking Californian.
A whole week with nothing of LA or Orange County or the West Coast, just the chill air of March in New York City. Center of the world. Rachel leaned happily against the window.
And sat bolt upright as That Song came on the radio.
"Oh, no," she said, and then, "Turn it off! Change the station! Something!"
The cab driver looked at her as if she was insane, and when she turned to get Ivy's support, her cousin was looking at her in a very similar way. "Rach?" Ivy asked, carefully. "You okay?"
"I hate this song!" Rachel exclaimed. "Turn it off already."
The taxi driver made no such move.
"I dunno," Ivy said, thoughtfully. "It's kind of catchy. Daisy dukes, bikinis on top..."
Rachel let out a sound that was half-snarl and half-yelp, and earned herself another slightly frightened look from the taxi driver. "Don't you dare! Shut up right now!"
"It's just a song, Rach," Ivy said. "Seriously, it'll be over in a few minutes."
"It implies that all Californian girls are sluts," Rachel said, and slouched back against the window. "Like every single other song about California ever. And it's overplayed. And," she added the finishing touch, "it spells "girl" with a u, for God's sake."
Ivy laughed. "Yeah, that pisses Gina off too."
"God, I hate Katy Perry," Rachel said, with feeling. "And California. The two of them together is just too much."
"Yeah, why do you hate it so much? Aunt Cess loves it."
Rachel gave her cousin a twisted smile. "As if that wasn't reason enough."
"I don't get your hatred for Aunt Cess either," Ivy said, "but whatever, none of my beeswax. You hate California because..."
Rachel opened her mouth, then shut it again. After a moment, she said, "You know, I think you're the first person who's asked me directly."
"I'm a nosy bitch," Ivy said, cheerfully, and got a giggle out of her cousin. "Stop ducking the question."
"Fine." Rachel tugged a curl of hair loose from her ponytail and started winding it around her finger. "I don't like the weather, the smog, the noise, or the shallow plastic Barbie dolls who call themselves my classmates."
"Ahhhh," Ivy said, on a long breath. "School. I should've guessed."
"Oh, that's only half of it," Rachel said, starting to get into the spirit of it. "It's like another world out there. Nobody takes anything seriously, because they've all got too much money to realize that real life means something. I mean, some of my classmates go to freaking Cancun on the weekends. The weekends. Their parents pick up millions of dollars for like, three weeks of work a year. It's like nobody even cares about anything outside their perfect little bubble-worlds, and they get really pissed off if you even think about bursting those bubbles."
Ivy's eyebrows climbed steadily up her forehead during this rant; about halfway through, they couldn't go any higher, so she started chewing on her lower lip instead. "Damn. You're serious about this."
"Duh," Rachel said. "Why'd you think I wasn't?"
Ivy shrugged. "Grass is greener syndrome? I mean, Summer seems to think that Washington DC is paradise."
Rachel had been there on a class trip once. "Ew. No."
"Yeah."
"Summer's Summer, though," she said, and at the look on Ivy's face, hastily added, "Not that that's wrong or anything, it's just that she doesn't live on Planet Earth most of the time. She's allowed to have some illusions."
"Yeah, okay," Ivy said, her tone deeply disapproving. She shook her head, and, in a much nicer voice, added, "My friend Olivia was born in the Inland Empire, though, and she doesn't seem to hate it nearly as much. And let's face it, you basically live in paradise."
Rachel shook her head. "It's not paradise. It looks that way from the outside, maybe, but it is so not paradise." She exhaled a long sigh. "At least people here are real, you know?"
"I believe you," Ivy said. "If only because you've been coming here for spring break since you were... what, thirteen?"
"Twelve," Rachel said. Being rich did have some perks.
"Fair enough." They rode in silence for a while, then Ivy added, "I'll give you overplayed and misspelling 'girl,' but you have to admit that it's a fun song."
Caught drifting, Rachel stared at her for a moment before she remembered what they were talking about. "Oh! Katy Perry! I don't have to admit any such thing. And you won't think so once you've seen the video anyway."
"I have seen the video," Ivy said, "and it didn't affect my position on the song at all because it has nothing to do with the song. Except for the fact that they both involve beaches, I guess."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "It's inextricably tied to the song. It's this shiny plastic world where nothing ever matters and everything's made of candy. It's the music video version of what everybody thinks." She paused. "And it's really, really badly designed."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ivy said. "I'll have you know that I like watching Katy Perry no matter how badly dressed she is. She's pretty cute."
There was a pause, broken only by the taxi driver honking maniacally at someone and the latest pop tart's latest hit blaring out of the radio. "You don't mean that," Rachel said, finally.
Ivy raised her eyebrows again. "I do, actually. You think Zooey Deschanel is cute, don't you? Katy Perry looks eerily like her, so how is she not cute?"
"If you're going to bring logic into this, I have nothing to say to you," Rachel said, with great dignity, and turned to face the window. Ivy laughed again, but politely settled into silence.
It was still going to be an awesome spring break, Rachel decided. She was out of that stupid plastic Candyland dream world.
She just wouldn't listen to the radio.