Memory: this is how I planned on losing my virginity circa sixth grade:

I am thirty years old and the first female president of the United States. I am also, clearly, the youngest. I have long blonde hair in braids. Through some sort of contest, I won a trip to Hawaii and a full wardrobe and luggage set from Roxy Quicksilver. (Although I am the president, I guess I can't afford these things on my own.) I take my vice-president, who in my mind was this boy in my class I had a crush on. When we are on top of a cliff in Hawaii overlooking the ocean we kiss for the first time. Later that night, we're in this greenhouse that's also a planetarium - it's warm and there are plants everywhere, but you also look up at the sky and see the stars in a science museum-looking way. We "do it" really tenderly. The next day when we're back at the White House running around the track we discuss the reprecussions of our actions - how will we tell the public? Do we tell the public?

Also, holy shit! The Oscar nominations are out! And King of Kong isn't nominated for best documentary and the little boy from Sweeney Todd or the There Will Be Blood score aren't on there either, so my (alredy low) Oscar emotional investment plummetted further.