Easy A

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The rumors of my promiscuity

have been greatly exaggerated.

I used to be anonymous,

invisible to the opposite sex.

If Google Earth were a guy...

... he couldn't find me if I was

dressed up as a 10-story building.

Pretty cutting-edge stuff, huh?

A high school girl feeling anonymous.

Who am I? What does it all mean?

Why am I here? Blah.

But don't worry,

this isn't one of those tales.

Though it sure started out that way.

And then it changed pretty quickly

when I started lying...

... about some very personal things.

So let the record show that I,

Olive Penderghast...

... being of sound mind,

and below-average breast size...

... swear to tell the truth,

the whole truth...

... and nothing but the truth.

Starting now.

And what better way

to share my private thoughts...

... than to broadcast them

on the Internet?

So here it is. Part one.

The shudder-inducing and cliched,

however totally false account...

...of how I lost my virginity

to a guy at a community college.

Let me just begin by saying

that there are two sides to every story.

And this is my side, the right one.

George is not a sexy name.

George is what you name

your teddy bear...

...not the name you wanna

scream out during climax.

And by that, I assume you mean?

The stable and self-perpetuating

end stage...

...in the evolution

of a plant community.

- Right.

- Why, what were you thinking?

The same. But I don't say it out loud

lest someone get the wrong idea.

I think you know innuendo

is attached to everything these days.

Innuendo? What...?

Whatever do you mean?

Rhiannon, Olive, go hit the books.

They don't hit back.

Also, hugs not drugs.

Mess with the bull, get the horns.

And any other cliches

you can come up with.

Bye, Mr. Griffith.

Bye.

- Watch your mouth.

- Sorry.

Mr. Griffith is my favorite teacher.

Although,

after all the trouble I caused...

... I don't know if I'm still

his favorite student.

You know, these are bad for you.

It leads to unwanted pregnancy,

all sorts of things.

Mismatched tires on your vehicle,

which is nonexistent.

And here is where the trouble began.

The lie that started the whole thing.

Please, please, I'm begging you.

I will pay you. I'll pay you.

Rhi, I cannot go camping

with you, okay?

I'm sorry, but I have a date.

- Okay? I told you.

- With who?

- You don't know him.

- And neither do you, you selfish b*tch.

Yes, I do.

He goes to college with my brother.

Okay. What's his name, then?

Rhiannon is what you'd call

a strong personality.

She asked me to come camping

with her family...

... and I don't know why

I didn't wanna go.

A little because I didn't feel like

hanging out with her all weekend.

But mostly because her parents are

the weirdest people I have ever met...

... and I live in California.

I ate dinner at her house once

and I swore, never again.

- This is interesting.

- Patchouli burger.

We grew it in our victory garden.

You want some dessert?

No, thank you.

I'm trying to watch my figure.

Well, I'm not.

So I lied and told her I couldn't go...

... because I had a date with a friend

of my brother's named George.

Let's just face it, there is no such thing

as a sexy George.

Yeah, well, mine is...

...so I think we should just

put this conversation to bed.

Fine, don't go camping with us.

Just know I hate you, b*tch.

Go get your chocolate milk.

- Do you want one?

- No.

And here's how I really spent

the weekend.

That's the worst song ever.

But on Monday, when Rhi asked me

how my weekend was...

He was charming, you know?

He was a real gentleman.

And it feels like I got a love

and I know that it's all mine.

Okay, okay. Wait, wait.

So are you going to see him again?

No. No, probably not. You know,

it was just one of those weekends.

A whole weekend?

Yup.

- Wait a minute. You didn't have...?

- What?

No. No, of course not.

You liar.

You totally lost your V-card to him.

- No, I didn't.

- Yes, you did.

- Tell me everything.

- Rhi, I'm not that kind of girl.

The kind that does it,

or the kind that does it...

...and doesn't have the balls

to tell her friend?

- What?

- I want every detail.

- Rhi.

- Now, b*tch.

You know, you call me "b*tch" a lot.

Okay?

- It's not a term of endearment.

- I want every detail. Now, shitface.

You're not heading

in the right direction.

Tell me.

Fine.

We did it.

Yes!

Finally.

Now you're a super slut like me.

I don't think letting Peter Hedlund

motorboat you...

...behind a Bed Bath & Beyond

really makes you a super slut.

There were a lot of people walking

past. Someone could've easily seen.

Whatever. This isn't about me,

this is about you.

What'd you let him do?

It was normal. You know?

Nothing freaky.

I don't know why I did it.

I guess maybe it was because

it was the first time...

... I had sort of felt superior to Rhi.

But I just started piling on lie after lie.

It was like setting up Jenga.

Do you know, like, Glade candles?

Those kind, but they were, like,

sexy Glade candles.

- He was sweet. He was...

- Of course.

What the hell are you looking at,

Sister Christian?

Just a couple of admitted whores.

Marianne Bryant is the secretary

of the student council...

... chairman of the Orange Blossom

dance committee...

... and president of

the Cross Your Heart Club...

... a club dedicated to shoving

their beliefs down people's throats.

Obviously they don't care.

Last year's cause celebre was

the changing of the school mascot.

Give it up for your Blue Devils!

Blue!

Blue Devil!

Yeah.

Yeah!

How can we exhibit school pride

when we're conveyed to others...

...as Satan worshippers?

Now, thankfully,

we're the much less intimidating...

Give it up for the Woodchucks!

Hey! Go, Woodchucks!

Woodchucks!

I liked Todd much better

when he was topless.

Yeah, but even dressed as a

woodchuck, I still fantasize about him.

Woodchucks.

Now Marianne had

a new cause celebre.

Me.

Which brings us to part two.

The accelerated velocity

of terminological inexactitude.

Which is really just my obnoxious way

of saying that lies travel fast.

And, boy, did my terminological

inexactitude accelerate with velocity.

Did you hear about Olive?

No way.

- She's not a virgin anymore?

- I can't believe it.

- Olive lost her virginity.

- Yeah.

Maybe next time a certain somebody

will be a little more careful...

...what she says in the water closet.

Yeah, about that? It's...

That's actually not what you think.

Can I talk to you alone

for a second?

- You gonna be okay?

- Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you.

Bye, Nina.

What you heard in the bathroom

the other day wasn't true at all.

- It's actually a funny story.

- Olive. That's your name, right?

Yeah, yeah. And you're Marianne.

We've had nine classes together

since kindergarten.

Ten, if you count Religion

of Other Cultures, which you didn't...

...because you refused to go.

Yeah. Listen, I'm not the one

that you have to answer to...

...for your depraved behavior.

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