Seriously. Why does that insane man always pick on ME? I didn't do anything to provoke him. It's not like I broke his favorite tea pot or switched burnt pieces of parchment for his favorite tea leaves or took off half of that creepy moustache trying to perform one of his wacked out DADA spells. Like SERIOUSLY! I was on my best behavior - my parents would have been PROUD for not embarrassing the family name, but noooo. Professor Krazi is insane and should be locked up in St. Mungo's. Period.

Now let's talk Quidditch. I am the BEST beater in Hogwarts history and my friend, Robbie Harrison, is a decent Chaser. If it wasn't for me, he'd be knocked out of each game and then Ravenclaw would be screwed 'cause he's a pretty accurate shot. But enough about him. So it's game day and I put on my uniform and it RIPPED at the seams. The sleeves came apart. Now, I really don't mind showing off my muscles to the ladies but they'd get all scratched up if they weren't covered up. I blame it on faulty stitching. And then to add injury to insult, that girl named Willow FORGOT to put my name on the Ravenclaw roster. I was about ready to shove her in a locker when a nervous looking guy with glasses asked me to officiate the game. The guy was pretty cool about it and so I did it. It was a pretty awesome feeling to be calling the shots, but how in Merlin's name do you BREAK A SNITCH! Come on!

Uh, oh. I hear crazy Macaddiemacmac screaming. Tony called her old and Annie is laughing hysterically. Time to run.

AND PLYM-MAN . . . don't forget. Wednesday. Great Hall. Ravenclaw Table.

*flexes and runs*