Author's Note!
The first ever video of me exposing Steve Harvey and his disturbing tweets is finally here on my YouTube channel !!!!!
btw , I chew on tissue and toilet paper every time my caregiver brings up my dad and how much I was reminded to her of him . I think my caregiver is in love with my dad , that 's why she talks about him so much :(
And she won 't stop saying bitch at the end of her every sentence !!!!! I think Hiléia is right , I really do need to find a way to get away from her abusive ass !!!!!
I will burning down all of the men with mustaches and beards who tweeted over 10,000 times on their Twitter accounts , and destroy them all !!!!! Men with mustaches and beards shouldn 't have a place on Twitter , because they 're creepy and sick as fuck !!!!! Fuck all of them !!!!! I hate them so fucking much with a passion !!!!!
Lai-Fatt , Stinco , and Spears Gang 4 Lyfe ;)
But anyways , on to chapter 11 of My Name is Jeff already .....
While Jeff was recording his song in his studio, he wakes up at the sound of an alarm, and immediately shuts it. Jeff always hated alarm clocks. He doesn't need them to wake up. He just looks at the time instead.
"What the hell, it's 7:30 AM now?" he said. He sighs and gets up to find out to realise his song is finally recorded.
"My song is finally recorded?" he said. "Oh, no!"
Running away from his recording studio and out of the stream of Bratz dolls, Jeff falls down the stairs and slips on broken glass and bubble wrap (AN: I fucking love bubble wrap so much !!!!!), rolling out of his childhood house.
"Good morning Jeff," Rodrigo said. "I was just about to come to see where you were at."
"You're in my childhood house by the way," Jeff said, as he washes the glass off of his clothes. Rodrigo looked around as he and Jeff walk up the stairs to see his recording studio.
"Wait, am I in your room?" Rodrigo said in a surprised way. "Oh, this is your recording studio?"
"Yes, my recording studio," Jeff said. Rodrigo sees all of the Bratz dolls lying on the ground.
"What is up with all of those Barbie dolls on the ground?" Rodrigo said. He shakily crossed his arms.
"Those are not Barbie dolls," Jeff said, shrugging all of the dolls away with his broom.
"Those are Bratz dolls," Jeff tells Rodrigo.
"Oh," he said. "I thought those were Barbie dolls, because I was shocked as ever, like what, dude?"
Rodrigo looked at the amp station, something catching his attention. Something pink was written inside of Jeff's amp station.
"What is that pink writing inside of there?" Rodrigo asked, and Jeff hid his arm in embarrassment.
"I have no idea, Rodrigo," Jeff said as he cleans the pink splotch away from his amp station.
"Don't lie to me Jeff," Rodrigo said. His face lit up red. "I know who did it. It was Paris Hilton, right?"
"Who's Paris Hilton?" Jeff turned away from him, walking out of his studio. Rodrigo's legs were sore from all the walking from yesterday. Jeff sees him shivering down the stairs.
"Rodrigo is shivering, why is it so cold up in here?" Jeff exclaims.
Jeff looked at his bedroom, and finds a sweater hanging over his bed. The sweater was black, with the words "I hate Pierre Bouvier" on the front. He slipped it on, the sleeves being long and falling all over his hands when he lifted them up. The waist part of it was also long, and was halfway to his knees.
"God damn!" he said. "I need to take a shower." Jeff takes a shower and wears his new sweater he'd bought from Rodrigo, apparently.
"Hey you," Rodrigo said as he stopped at the doorway, staring at Jeff's outfit. Also underneath his sweater were some wacky pants with wacky looking sneakers in black. He looked up and down from his outfit, embarrassed.
"Sorry, I'm just really cold. I can give it back from you," Rodrigo said.
"No, no! I will keep it. I look cute in it though!" Jeff said, happily. He and Rodrigo stood there staring at each other.
"Your house looks really nice," Rodrigo said.
"Thank you very much," Jeff said. Rodrigo hesitantly made his way across the recording studio to him. When he stood in front of the recording studio and saw his guitars, he looked down at Jeff, whispering in his ear.
"Your guitars are so cool," Rodrigo said. "I want one."
"You want one of my guitars?" Jeff said.
"Sure. I want that pink one over there," Rodrigo said, smirking at Jeff, and he glared up at him. Rodrigo grabs one of the guitars and realised a scratch coming out of the guitar.
"That's unusual, dude," Rodrigo said as he looked at Jeff enticingly, and Jeff gulped.
"The skin is ripping off of the guitar," he said in a surprised way. Rodrigo noticed the pink guitar's skin being peeled off with something sharp.
"No. Fucking. Way." Jeff said, super surprised out. Rodrigo couldn't believe it either and the guitar said "PCB is so cute!!! xoxo".
There was an awkward silence between the two as they both get very disgusted reading that.
"Eww!!!" Jeff and Rodrigo said, disgustedly.
Rodrigo walked outside, Jeff locking the door to his house, and Rodrigo later gets in his car.
As Rodrigo got into his car, and buckled his seatbelt, Rodrigo drove off, very disgusted.
"Who the fuck is PCB?" Jeff asked from his house window, with Rodrigo pulling out of the driveway, doing a u-turn back to talk to Jeff.
"I don't know," Rodrigo said as he sighed. "But I think somebody is getting on to you now."
"Rodrigo, we were supposed to be co-workers only, because we both share the same birthday. We were stupid to think being friends would work," Jeff's voice was strained, like he was trying not to cry.
"Jeff... is there something wrong?" Rodrigo said, shocked and nervously at the same time.
"No, it's fine. I thought my career as a singer was gone, but obviously... the last two days proved me wrong," Jeff explains. "I wish people loved my music way more than all of those other guys. I feel bummed out!"
Rodrigo turned on the radio, obviously not wanting to talk anymore.
"If you're wondering, just keep the sweater," Rodrigo said. "I hate Pierre Bouvier too. He ruined my life also. We both need to kick his ass soon."
"Okay," Jeff said, and closes his window. Rodrigo drove off, listening to a Brazilian podcast.
As Jeff was inside, tears started streaming down his face, and he rested his face in his hands, heart breaking sobs racking through his body. Still crying, he pulled away from his recording studio.
Rain started to pour down, beating against the top of Jeff's childhood house. Jeff decided to turn off the lights as he falls asleep in his bed.
"I really wish this song wasn't published to the internet like that," Jeff said. "I feel very bummed out now."
