OLIVE Let the record show that I, Olive Penderghast, being of sound mind, ample breast size and the occasional corny knock knock joke, do enter this video blog into evidence in the case against me. Because I'm being judged by a jury of my peers, I will attempt to insert `like' and `totally' into my confession as much as possible. I confess I'm, in no small part, to blame for the vociferous gossip that has turned my Varsity letter scarlet, but - for anyone hoping that the sizzling details of my sordid past will provide you with a reason to lock the door and make love to a dollop of your sister's moisturizing lotion - you'll be gravely disappointed. CAFETERIA - DAY Olive sits with her best friend, RHIANNON ABERNATHY (17), a brash teenager. George is like what you name your teddy bear, not the name you wanna scream out during an orgasm. OLIVE'S BEDROOM - PRESENT DAY Into the webcam -- OLIVE I'm not proud of this. OLIVE He's pretty hot and he asked me out this weekend, so I said yes.
There'll be olive cars and olive trucks and olive chickens and olive ducks and olive socks and olive garters And olive brakes and olive starters!
Out of breath from dancing, she walks over and displaces the NEEDLE from the KEN NORDINE ALBUM she's playing. OLIVE'S BEDROOM - PRESENT DAY To the webcam -- OLIVE But on Monday, when Rhi asked me how my weekend was... HALLS OF BARBARA BUSH HIGH SCHOOL - DAY Olive and Rhi walk, with books in hand, to class - weaving in and out of people.
WOODS - LAST YEAR - NIGHT Olive, uncomfortable, and Rhiannon, bored, sit around a campfire with the Abernathys.
Abernathy squeaks out a meek titter that is annoyingly high-pitched.
(Beat.) Let me just begin by saying that there are two sides to every story.