Easy A

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The rumors of my promiscuity

have been greatly exaggerated.

I used to be anonymous,

invisible to the opposite sex.

If Google Earth were a guy...

... he couldn't find me if I was

dressed up as a 10-story building.

Pretty cutting-edge stuff, huh?

A high school girl feeling anonymous.

Who am I? What does it all mean?

Why am I here? Blah.

But don't worry,

this isn't one of those tales.

Though it sure started out that way.

And then it changed pretty quickly

when I started lying...

... about some very personal things.

So let the record show that I,

Olive Penderghast...

... being of sound mind,

and below-average breast size...

... swear to tell the truth,

the whole truth...

... and nothing but the truth.

Starting now.

And what better way

to share my private thoughts...

... than to broadcast them

on the Internet?

So here it is. Part one.

The shudder-inducing and cliched,

however totally false account...

...of how I lost my virginity

to a guy at a community college.

Let me just begin by saying

that there are two sides to every story.

And this is my side, the right one.

George is not a sexy name.

George is what you name

your teddy bear...

...not the name you wanna

scream out during climax.

And by that, I assume you mean?

The stable and self-perpetuating

end stage...

...in the evolution

of a plant community.

- Right.

- Why, what were you thinking?

The same. But I don't say it out loud

lest someone get the wrong idea.

I think you know innuendo

is attached to everything these days.

Innuendo? What...?

Whatever do you mean?

Rhiannon, Olive, go hit the books.

They don't hit back.

Also, hugs not drugs.

Mess with the bull, get the horns.

And any other cliches

you can come up with.

Bye, Mr. Griffith.

Bye.

- Watch your mouth.

- Sorry.

Mr. Griffith is my favorite teacher.

Although,

after all the trouble I caused...

... I don't know if I'm still

his favorite student.

You know, these are bad for you.

It leads to unwanted pregnancy,

all sorts of things.

Mismatched tires on your vehicle,

which is nonexistent.

And here is where the trouble began.

The lie that started the whole thing.

Please, please, I'm begging you.

I will pay you. I'll pay you.

Rhi, I cannot go camping

with you, okay?

I'm sorry, but I have a date.

- Okay? I told you.

- With who?

- You don't know him.

- And neither do you, you selfish b*tch.

Yes, I do.

He goes to college with my brother.

Okay. What's his name, then?

Rhiannon is what you'd call

a strong personality.

She asked me to come camping

with her family...

... and I don't know why

I didn't wanna go.

A little because I didn't feel like

hanging out with her all weekend.

But mostly because her parents are

the weirdest people I have ever met...

... and I live in California.

I ate dinner at her house once

and I swore, never again.

- This is interesting.

- Patchouli burger.

We grew it in our victory garden.

You want some dessert?

No, thank you.

I'm trying to watch my figure.

Well, I'm not.

So I lied and told her I couldn't go...

... because I had a date with a friend

of my brother's named George.

Let's just face it, there is no such thing

as a sexy George.

Yeah, well, mine is...

...so I think we should just

put this conversation to bed.

Fine, don't go camping with us.

Just know I hate you, b*tch.

Go get your chocolate milk.

- Do you want one?

- No.

And here's how I really spent

the weekend.

That's the worst song ever.

But on Monday, when Rhi asked me

how my weekend was...

He was charming, you know?

He was a real gentleman.

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