In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.

It was Oscar Night in Hollywood, which meant the stars were out in force, and Zero had once again somehow conned a press pass out of someone. It was her last hurrah before moving to another reality where she wasn't on the Z-list, so why not go all out?

After telling Miley Cyrus to stand up straight, dear, and some general terrorizing of Zac Efron in an attempt to get him to admit he had even less business being here than she did, she asked Zoe Saldana what was up with the bottom of her dress, thinking maybe some of the thingies from her movie had colonized it, and gently broke it to Sarah Jessica Parker that she was orange.

Her work here was done.

"This has been a very special Zero vs. Hollywood, and unless I feel the pressing need to make fun of something after the show, it'll also be my last. I'm moving. To...somewhere they don't have awards shows. I'd like to thank everyone who watched on YouTube, the guys from Spooky Things, and everyone who's put up with me. This is Zero, signing off. Now I'm going to go fangirl Helen Mirren."

Zero was sitting upside down on the couch, feet in the air and her head near the floor, and her camcorder had been rigged up under the coffee table with tape and a couple of unbent wire hangers. She reached over, pressed 'record,' and started reading from a set of index cards all metaed as appropriate:

( Cut for length and ragging on a perfectly respectable actor. )

((Open to the boyfriend or for phone calls/e-mails/carrier pigeons.))

Monday found Zero camped out in front of the TV, with snacks. And popcorn especially for throwing, because...

"YOU DON'T HAVE MUSIC IN ALASKA?!?!?!"

The neighbors were pretty much used to it by now.

So there was a show about models. Normally Zero ignored those, because the stupid hurt her brain and she'd gotten enough of it that one time she'd volunteered to help out at Claude's show, anyway, but this show about models was different. This show about models had someone she knew in it. A former bandmate, even. So Zero was camped out on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn in her lap and Fish perched on one shoulder, cheering Chad on.

She just hoped being around other models didn't somehow leach his brains.

((Open for phone, e-mail, or either person named Parker who is not a blonde))

Zero was sitting in her music management seminar, pretending to pay attention but actually surfing the internet, because laptops were magical when she came across an ecard she thought was kind of funny. After about three seconds contemplation, she decided the most worthy recipient would be Parker, just because that was totally random and absurd.

( Little did she know. )

((Open for e-mail!))

There was nothing wrong here. Nothing to see. Move along, move along.

Zero certainly hadn't set the oven on fire making chocolate chip cookies. She wasn't Twitch. She could cook. So the kitchen filled with smoke and fire extinguisher stuff and the beeping fire alarm and Zero running around pulling her hair and freaking out and shouting into her cell phone that the fire department didn't need to come, she had it under control, well, those were all figments of the imagination. Really.

Today was not a good day in LA.

((Open for the boyfriend, or phone calls or e-mails, if you want!))

Where Skank Zero Hopeless-Savage had gotten a red carpet press pass was going to be debated hotly among the crownèd heads of Hollywood for weeks to come. Her footage was shown on MTV, but they disavowed all responsibility for and knowledge of her actions.

Nonetheless, here she was, in a plaid dress and combat boots, with a frightened-looking cameraman, accosting any celebrity she could get her hands on:

"I'm here with those kids from those Secondary School Drama movies, and I have just one question for them: Who did you kill to get tickets to the bloody Oscars?"

"Ms. Swinton, and this is coming from me, what the squall are you wearing?"

"Angelina! Angelina! I'm not Ryan Seacrest! I can babysit! How are you walking so fast in heels?!"

((Establishy. And on crack.))

Zero was carrying a tray of coffees in one hand and someone's dry cleaning in the other when someone suddenly shouted, "YOU! Weird pop star kid!"

( Zero Gets Promoted )

Zero returned from her trip home for Thanksgiving triumphantly carrying a cooler that had been searched by the TSA earlier in the day and found to contain only leftovers. "Hey, guys!" she called out as she kicked the door shut, assuming someone was somewhere in the apartment. If not, well, then the neighbors would know. "Great news! We're not gonna hafta cook before the end of finals!"

((Open to her fellow apartment-dweller and phone calls!)

To: Everyone Zero Knows
From: Zero
Subject: VOTE YOU SQUALLERS

( content )

((Open for e-mails and ecards.))

While Peter was getting diagnosed with an eventually fatal disease at the clinic, Zero had awakened.

Then Zero had been clubbed over the head and replaced by her evil twin, One. One would show them. She'd show them all. She'd make her parents regret the day they'd decided they only wanted four children and had given her up for adoption to a perfectly nice family of dentists. First, she would steal Zero's boyfriend, and then...her whole life. One monologued about this at length to a handy light fixture. It just seemed like the thing to do.

She hoped her dye job was okay. How did people live with their hair like this, honestly?

"WHEEEEEEEEEEE!"

That would be one Miss Skank Zero Hopeless-Savage, dancing around holding her phone. "I got the jo-ob, I got the jo-ob! I start tomorrow, I got the jo-ob!"

And that would be the 'I got a job' song, as styled by Miss Skank Zero Hopeless-Savage. Creative, not really. But it had heart!

((Open to phone calls, e-mails, and fellow apartment dwellers.))

After getting off the phone with Parker, Zero had gotten inspired to Do Something to her hair. She'd been blonde for far too long, by her reckoning. So she'd gotten into her hair dye collection and locked herself in the bathroom for a few hours. With the vent fan on; she didn't want to actually die of dye.

She emerged with, well, really different hair.

((SO. I was poking around on hollow_art and lo and behold, I found...Zero! Only real. Zero only real is portrayed by Katie B., lead singer of Canadian band the Jakalopes.

Establishy, but open if you wish to the boyfriend, or to anyone who might wish to call or e-mail Zero. Whee!))

Zero was pretty much ready for prom. Well, kind of. She was wearing a bathrobe still. But she had super-swerval hair. And she needed her date before she could move forward with her plan. Which some might call evil, it was true. Zero preferred 'mischievous.'

Zero was sitting on her bed, glaring at her notebook as if this would make a page full of doodles and half-completed thoughts produce film-making genius for her essay.

...yeah, she had nothing. Good thing it wasn't due until Wednesday!

She was also starting to wonder when the frak they turned the air conditioning on in these dorms, because it was getting rather warm, and her little fan was not cutting it. Maybe she should open a window. Spring. Who needed it? Aside from the plants. And animals. And...she was getting off track again. "Focus, Hopeless-Savage," she muttered to herself. Like that was going to happen.

((Open for [coy]one who knows who he is[/coy].))

Zero was lying on her bed reading one of her textbooks when Janine limped in. "Oi?" Zero asked.

"Oi?" Janine echoed.

"You're limping."

"Oh, that. I almost got run down by an NYC cab." Zero just blinked at her. "They're filming over by the business school."

"Ugh, again?"

"New York cabs, New York cops, dead body in the water. Welcome to LA."

Zero laughed and grabbed her laptop.

TO: [FH List]
FROM: skank.hopelesssavage@usc.edu
SUBJECT: So how's your day been?

My roommate almost got hit by an NYC cab today! And on Monday I wound up in the background of a scene for Spirit Mutterer (wrong place wrong time). What's up with you lot?

-0

"Don't mind me, I'm just here to get my stuff, Kali and Heidi already set up the air mattress and it's going to be--" Janine Schneider trailed off as she saw her roommate lying facedown on her bed. "Um."

( Oh bother )

"One phone call," the guard reminded Zero as he handed her the phone. Who to call? Rat? Her parents? Someone who wouldn't lecture her? Hmm. After a moment, Zero made her decision and started dialing. As the phone started ringing, the guard asked her, "Were you really stalking Tom Cruise, kid?"

"Don' be silly," Zero told him. "It was a film school project that got slightly out of control."

"Film students," muttered the guard. "Of course."

((For one person!))