The Romantic Exploits of Dennis Creevey the Playah

Dear Diary,

Today I decided to make a change in my life-I'm going to trade in the old Dennis Creevey for a newer, shinier model, preferably one with gold hubcaps. And a pair of fuzzy dice would me nice, too---Oh! And one of those pine air fresheners...I tend to get a little stinky in the summertime. Anyway, I knew it was time for a new me when my "I like myself" and "I'm a good listener" t-shirts developed large holes. In order to achieve my new self, I have written some goals:

-Buy "playah" clothes-only wear stuff that has been worn by rappers indicted on felony gun possession.

-Find out what the hell J-Z is saying in "H to the Izzo."

-Call Professor McGonagall "Minerva," act as if nothing is wrong, and run away really fast. Repeat 15 times or at least until she spontaneously combusts.

-Stop responding to the name Dennis Creevey. Insist on being called Denís Creevay or something jiggy like that.

-Find out what "jiggy" means.

So, these are my goals. I hope I can reach them! I'll talk to you later, and you'll find out how much progress I've made.

Love,

Denís Creevay

Dear Diary,

I went around school today, asking people what "jiggy" means. They laughed at me. This one guy said, "Dude, it's like, whatever you want it to mean," and then his friend said, "Yeah, dude, in order to find out what jiggy truly means, you've gotta, like, find the Jiggy within yourself."

I think they were stoned.

So, anyway, I'm well on the road to playah-dom. When I'm not trying to find the jiggy within myself, I've been trying to find a "hot mama" to be my "bitch." After I find out what "jiggy" means, I think I'll do some research to further my vocabulary. For instance, I want to know the difference between a "hot mama" and a "bitch." I could ask Colin, but he's too dorky. So I think I should ask Harry because he can really catch the "siznitch."

Love,

Denís Creevay

P.S.- I think people might think it's weird for a playah to write to Diary, so I'm going to change your name to something jiggy, ok?

Dear D.J. DiRi,

I found out from my muggle relatives that the Music Television Network (MTV) recently made the opera "Carmen" into a hip hopera starring Beyonce Knowles, front woman of Destiny's Child and hot mama with perfect hair. So I've decided to write my own hip hopera. It's gonna be called "Dennís Creevay: A True British Playah." It will rival such productions as RENT and Lion King, only with a Bentley and some hos. I'll probably give the lead role to the girl who was kicked out of Destiny's Child.

I still haven't found my hot mama. Someone told me that a bitch is your male prison companion, and while I do want to spread a rumor that I've been in the pen (preferably for shooting sopmeone in the face in a bar like my hero, P. Diddy), I do think that having a male bitch would challenge my manhood.

Love,

D. Crivy

Dear Diary,

I have a few words to say about one of my heroes, a young man by the name of Lil Bow Wow. Sure, he hasn't done anything great and he probably smokes a little more weed than the average 12 year old should, but how can you not worship someone whose cousin was jiggy with Tupac and the gangstas on the west coast rap scene?

So anyway Bow, I'd just like to say that even though you've got stitches on your booty and peeps are calling you "Lil Bow Ow," you'll always be a hero to me.

Love,

D.

*Restrains the urge to say that Bow Wow is anus-riffic*

Dear Diary,

I just heard Britney's new song, "I'm a slave for you." Word. Man that biznitch can sing. In the song, I think she's talking about being a love slave for Justin Timberlake (you know, the Backstreet boy with the fluffy afro hair), which is pretty jiggy.

Yesterday I told Lavender Brown that she's one hot biznitch and that I'd really like to be her slave, and she laughed at me! I talked to Parvati, and she said that I should act more like some dude named Freddie King, III. Apparently he's some big movie star, like the next Brad Pitt, so I watched his movie "She's All That" to get some pointers. The most important thing I learned is persistence. Even though you've got globs of hair gel running down your face and the girls think you're a lot more attractive than you really are, you still gotta go for the girl because she was destined to become your ho.

Word,

D to the izzo, C to the Izzay

Dear Diary,

The most amazing thing happened to me today! There I was sitting in the library, memorizing the lyrics to "Big Pimpin," when suddenly I heard a girl crying. And, being the the ladies man that I am, I immediately went to investigate. Passing through shelves of old books, I discovered that at the end of one of the bookracks sat a chick, not a particularly attractive chick, but a chick all the same. Actually, she was really quite mannish, but that's beside the point. Then I realized who she was-Eloise Midgen, the girl who had cursed her nose off to get rid of her pimples. We had been friends earlier on; geeks tend to band together. She was the only nice person to my first year.

"Hi Eloise," I said.

"Who are you?"

"Why, it's me, Dennis Creevey."

"Oh!" she said, turning red with embarrassment, "I'm sorry! I didn't recognize you under all your new...clothes."

I looked down at myself, at the Lakers jersey and the fake diamonds around my neck, and I realized how silly I had been to try and change myself. Because it doesn't matter-the car I drive or the "ice" around my neck. All that matters is that you recognize that it's just about respect. It doesn't matter-the clothes I wear or where I go and why. All that matters is that you get hyped and we do it to you every time.

So I reached down and gave Eloise my hand. I got the hot biznitch, and all I had to be was myself.

Pretty jiggy, eh?

Love,

Dennis