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Pickles are gross.

I hate them with a passion.

They are so damn confusing. Screw pickles! I mean one minute they’re cucumbers, then suddenly wala! They are gracing your hot dog in the form of relish. I just don’t get it, it’s an oxymoron.

Hehe, oxymoron! I feel so smart, it’s my word of the day. Lee Jordan got me a “A Stupid Wizard’s Guide to Muggle Language” tear off calendar for my birthday last year. He’s a sweetheart, even though he forgot that I’m muggleborn. Oh well, but anyway it’s amazing. Shiny words that I’ve never even dreamed about are on there, like cleaver, hatchet, and bayonet... which are all weapons for some odd reason, but that’s not the point. Each day is a new libretto (October 20th) journey of words.

Today is oxymoron. Notice the emphasis on the moron. I sure as hell feel like one.

An oxymoron is basically where two contrasting words are used together in a phrase. Here are some fun examples:

Falsely true,

cold heat,

ugly Roger,

angelic Wood (snort),

and so on and so forth.

Why am I so hysterical you might wonder.... here’s the mother of all oxymorons:

Boring Ruthie.

I’ve discovered through certain events which I don’t care to ever talk about again,

I’m boring.

Boring.... B-O-R-I-N-G!

Ruthie, calm down no need to hyperventilate again. But seriously mates, boring Ruthie Sparks: that’s an oxymoron right?


I have never ever Trevor (Neville’s toad) been considered boring. Sure I’ve been called spazzy, crazy, insane, mentally deranged, bonkers, mad, ditzy, bananas, but never BORING! I always thought being mentally unstable was one of my best qualities.... but now I don’t know.

Insert loud dramatic sob.

Yes, I’m blubbering once more. I promised myself I will never cry ever again, but I can sure as hell sob all I want so....


I’m so boring that Oliver-I-don’t-know-his-middle-name-but-it’s-probably-Scottish- Wood is ignoring me. I’m being IGNORED by Wood. What in the name of Godric is up with that! Souldn’t he be around here doing something Quditich-y or groveling for forgiveness for practically pushing me into a tree!

It’s been over a week and he hasn’t uttered a single word to me! He's always at practice!

Not that I care, because I don’t. But how am I suppose to get Kates and Ollie together if he’s out there doing Merlin knows what with a Quaffle!

Speaking of Katie, I haven’t spoke to her since I got to this evil dimension of lost interesting-ness. I swear to my left fibula that this place is sucking the life out of me. Since I got here I’ve become dull and patient and nice and.... well it’s done know more quiet, easygoing, depressing  Ruthie Elizabeth Sparks. Ruthie Sparks is back!


“Will you please stop shouting in the third person, you’re scaring the costumers away.”

True true, this place is deserted. Aren’t joke shops suppose to be fun and fill of life. It’s okay joke shop, I’M BORING TOO!

“Seriously woman, stop shouting! Are you crying?-”


“-Mother of fu-”

Okay well you can use your imagination of what Fred Weasley said next. Yep, I’m at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes visiting my favorite redheaded ex-boyfriend who is a twin.

Not Fred, George obviously.

Fred hates me, probably because I’m boring.

I don’t blame him.

I’m- sniffle- boring myself right now.

Sob! Sob! Okay.... enough sobbing. Here’s the lowdown,

It’s Sunday.... which means it’s the Sabbath, stores close early, and no Quditich practice.

Yeah! Do you know what that means, I’m not confined in the compound of crushed dreams! They let us out and the second they opened those doors I ran and screamed for freedom!

Quite literally.

Then I convinced Jasper Ames (who is totally fine by the way) to take me to see Georgie. It took a while because he wanted to... stalk that Uma chick, but I told him I could talk to her for him or something to that effect.

That probably won’t go over well. I don’t do the whole girl talk thing, which is probably why Katie and Oliver are neglecting me. Oliver’s practically a girl any ways.

Haha, I just got a great mental image. Must- giggle- tell- giggle- George!

“Your doing the evil laugh thing again,” Fred snapped.

Whoops, well at least it’s not bland. I’m full of life of spice and sauce baby, I’m SAUCY!

“George, I can’t take this anymore. Will you please close the shop, I’m going to the Burrow,” Fred said annoyed, shooting me a dirty look before stalking out of the shop, slamming the door.

George let out a low whistle, “You really did it this time Ruth.”

I pouted, “It’s not my fault he detests me! I never did a thing to him.”

“Fred does not detest you, he just strongly, strongly dislikes you.”

Humph! I can understand Leanne Jensen “strongly disliking” me, or even the Slytherins! But why does Fred want to choke me to death every single time he sees me?!

“Hey, where did everyone go?”, I asked looking around to see the store empty.

It is never empty, usually it’s packed with people.

“The store cleared out after you started to cut out pictures of Wood’s head and light them on fire,” George replied restocking a self, “where did you get all those pictures of Oliver any ways?”

“I keep them for sadistic pleasure,” I replied shortly.

George gave me a Fred-look before saying, “Wow, you’re blunt today.”

Damn straight! Wait.... according to the thesaurus I picked up since I said “orbs”, blunt is another word for- dull. Oh my God! And dull is another word for.... boring! Breath in, breath out. The most un-boring person I’ve ever met (George), thinks I’m... boring.

“Ruthie, are you all right?”

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.


Oh my God. It’s Sunday and I’m swearing in the name of-


Oh my God.

George suddenly came up to me and grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Ruthie, are you okay?”, he asked looking at me alarmed.

“George,” I breathed out, “if I ask you something real important, will you tell me the truth?”

He nodded.


“What? I couldn’t hear you.”


“I beg your pardon?”, George replied confused.

AM I BORING!”, I shouted into his face.

He looked slightly dazed, before looking at me in awe.

You-” pointing at me, “-think you're boring?”

I nodded.

And then he did the unthinkable, he burst out laughing.

Prat. How dare he laugh at me!

Not just chuckling, or giggling, but full-out-this-is-the-funnist-joke-I’ve-ever-heard-laughing.

Curse you to Satan’s lair George-I-forgot-your-middle-name-Weasley! It’s been three effin’ minutes and he’s rolling around on the ground laughing.

I kicked his leg and gestured to my frowning face. Seeing my expression he quickly sobered up, but still looked very amused. George stood up and gave me a huge hug. I struggled against his arms, wiggling and trying to get to his crotch. Ewwe, that sounded wrong. I wanted to do things-er! You know knee him where it hurts... oh never mind!

He finally pulled me away from him, but kept me at arms length, grinning down at me.

“Ruthie Elizabeth Sparks, is that why you have been so girlie all day? Huffing and sighing about everything! You are not boring, not at all love.”

“Really?”, I asked hopefully looking up at him.

“Really,” he replied tapping my nose.

“Are you sure your not lying to me because I’m your friend?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” George replied crossing his hands over his chest.

I nodded happily until he asked, “Why would you ever think you were boring though?”

My face fell and I grimaced, “I’m an oxymoron.”

“A figure of speech in which apparently two contradictory terms appear in conjunction,” George replied going over to the cash register.

“Yeah, well- wait how did you know that?”, I asked shocked.

“Lee got me some kind of Muggle calendar.-”

Humph! Bloody Lee-Lee! I feel so un-special right now. I feel... insecure.

“-So why do you feel like an oxymoron?”

“Someone called me boring,” I sighed.

“How dare they! Who?”

“Kenny called me boring after I tried to kiss him.”

George stopped dead in his tracks, shocked. Well I was too I tell you! I didn’t mean to almost kiss him! I can't help it, he’s so.... rugged and manly and kissable!

“Kenny, as in Kenny Bryce!”, George exclaimed, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” I replied picking at my nail polish.

“He’s like the best chaser like- ever!”

That’s like, the most like amazing like, info like... okay this like thing is like getting like annoying..... DANG IT!

“How do you know him?!”

“I’ve been Rogering/ Kennying him. He’s mean and I hate him,” I said flicking my hair dramatically.

“Oh, so he doesn’t like you,” George said counting galleons from the register.

Obviously, I tried to kiss him with some mistletoe and he kind of went off on me. He said I was Oliver’s girl, I wasn’t his type, and I bored him. I was boring to him. Urgh! It’s okay I’m over it, over. Like I’m over the Roger Davies being gay thing.

Not really, I cry- mean sob every night. Actually I do that to make Oliver (who’s my bed buddy) guilty so he will talk to me.

Which isn’t working.

“I’m sorry Ruth,” George replied.

“It’s okay, I’ve been ignoring my true beloved any ways...”

Poor, poor neglected Blondie.... kind of like me.


Wait... WHAT!?

“NO! Why would you ever think that?”, I demanded.

George shrugged, “He so obviously fancies you and you complain about him all the time, so yeah.”

Oh no. No. Blasphemy. Lies. All Lies.

I couldn’t even respond, my mouth was hanging wide open. Oliver likes me. No, impossible! We loathe each other. He wants to ruin my life and I want to snap his broomstick in half!

“No response?”

Oliv- Wood.,see George I hate him soooo much I can’t even say his first name, likes Katie. He does! I swear on my bootlegging Uncle Rico’s grave! And Katie loves him. I know she does, that’s why she’s so upset all the time. Why else would she be other than the fact that Oliver won’t go out with her? She’s been in love with him since around the time I’ve liked Roger. I’ve seen the way he looks at her and the way he looks at me. Completely different I tell you.

He does not fancy me and why else would I feel like I’m going to throw up whenever I’m near him? Huh!? That’s right George, take that!

“I’m right then, he carries a torch for you and you Ruthie Sparks love him” George said with a smirk.

I can’t even look at you right now George Weasley. I'm not even completely sure what that last statement meant.

“As a matter of fact-”

The door opened and we both whirled around to see a very wet Oliver Wood standing there.

Speak of the devil! Seriously, the devil.

“It’s raining out,” Oliver said looking at me.

“That’s nice,” I replied looking out the front window to see it raining and snowing at the same time.

Rain and snow, isn’t that a bad omen? Oh great, the fates are against me. If I didn’t have enough to worry about.

“Hey Oliver how are you,” George greeted merrily giving Wood a wave.

Oliver simply nodded his head towards George, but kept his eyes on me. Brown- no hazel orbs with little green specks in them.

Damn, I said orbs again.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Why?”, I asked confused.

“It’s important,” Oliver replied simply.

Wow, I wonder what’s going on. I’ve never seen Wood look so serious in his entire life. Usually I would never go into a confined place with him, but I don’t know...

“Okay,” I replied surprising myself with my words.

I guess I’m playing fate.

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