Hey everyone! Welcome to Mandyland 2.0, the official place for all things Mandy Baxter. Dad got my password and shut down my old blog, all cuz I wrote that stuff about boys in it, which is like, hello, what else am I s’posed to write about? Stupid bears or flannel or something? Guh!
But anyway, I’ll try to keep this updated, so come back often to learn more about Hollywood’s next big Hollywood reality star! Which is going to be my real job. Not all these ridic jobs Dad wants me to have. You’d think that me blasting him in the eyes with Mace would calm him down about this whole job sitch, but he’s still on it. So gross. Also, I just wanted to point out that despite what some people are saying, my brief time slinging 'za does not violate the Mandy Code of food handling (as in, “Don’t ever do it”) because I never technically touched the pizza – just the boxes, which is totes OK. I have to be allowed to touch boxes. Shoes come in them.
I have no excuse for having to wear that hat though. Barf. I mean, a trucker hat? What is it, 2003? I looked like Dad. Which sadly, might be better than looking like Mom these days. I wonder if she’s even thinking when she gets dressed, or if she just like spins around with her arms out in the closet and wears what falls down. I wish I could get my mom to come shopping with me. She needs an extreme makeover, like on TV. Maybe whenever she walks in the room I’ll start yelling, “Move that bus!