How do you do? Jesus Christ, can we get on with this? 
Oh, sorry. Okay, so, uh, who are you? Stop wasting your time answering questions that you know the answer to. I introduced myself when I wheeled in. I’m Betty Pillsbury. 
But really, you’re… Phoebe Elizabeth Evans, child of Sam Evans and Brittany S. Pierce. 

Who’s your momma… oh. You go off a script, genius. I’m trying to save us both some time. 
… Look, I guess I’m just going to have to run this interview myself. 
You probably want to know about the chair, right? It’s the elephant in the room, no doubt. It’s a birth defect, a severely deformed T9 vertebra which left me paralyzed from the mid-torso down since birth. 
I’m so sorry. My exasperation has nothing to do with my paralysis. Back where I’m from, we’ve got a handle on the whole “handicapable” thing. 
If you want to apologize to anyone, tell it to my mom. She’s been depressed about it my entire life. 
That’s awful. I get where she’s coming from. She’s a professional dancer and it’s literally her whole life because she doesn’t have any hobbies. I know she about has a meltdown anytime one of her coworkers brings in their kids to dance. 

The kicker (no pun intended) is that I can dance just fine. The upper half of my body works great. I’ve got rhythm. I’m the captain of my cheerleading team. 
So what brings you to 2013? Artie Abrams. 

Ooh, do I detect a little crush? Hell, no. Look, my folks and their glee friends have gotten through some hard times, but Artie’s life is the most effed-up. Basically, the wedding was going to be the start of a deep downturn, so I came back to give him a confidence boost so to speak, and now Kitty’s trying to nudge him back to his career goals. 
So you know Kitty? I’ll get to that in a minute. 
Anyway, it wasn’t hard to get Emma to claim she was my aunt. Fifty-two percent of my spine is defective and I’ve still got more of a backbone than her. 
Um, since you’re leading the interview, what’s next on the agenda? Can I talk about how he was crap in bed? Or how most guys are? You know I used to be bi, but when you’re a natural blonde with big tits and no sensation below the waist, you become kind of a magnet for guys who think they’ve got an excuse to be shit in bed. 
Yikes. Yeah, yeah, I’m like a human blowup doll to them. I know it sounds like I’m using the excuse that bad experiences with guys in bed turned me into a lesbian, but it’s not like that. 
Jenny turned me full lesbian. Or practicing lesbian, really. I still find certain guys attractive, but I’ve deemed them “Not Worth My Time”. Jenny is worth my time. 
Jenny? (sigh) I’d tell you all about Jenny, but you’ll get a chance to meet her, and, frankly, she’ll be a hundred times more fun (and cooperative) to interview than me. And I’d hate to deprive you of the pleasure, because, objectively speaking, she is the most perfect and awesome human being to walk to Earth. 
Huh. (grins) Look, you don’t have to say it. I turn into the world’s biggest fucking sap when I talk about her, but she really is amazing. She’s adorable, kind beyond belief, and a tiger in the sack. 
…That took an unexpected turn. Well, to be perfectly crude, getting me off requires a little patience and some alternative methods, and she’s the first person I gone out with that’s willing to go through the trouble. And not call it trouble. 
And since you asked, yes, I do return the favor. 
I completely did not ask. Whatever. I volunteer the information freely. 
Moving on to… anything else? I did say I’d talk about Kitty. Back home she’s my best friend. I bet she’s still pissed about Santana, right? 
Yeah. She didn’t say why though. She’s still be coy about it? Big surprise. I don’t know why she treats it like some big conspiracy. My mom and Santana had an affair. End of story. 
That’s it? It boils down to that. My mom and dad were happy for a while, then I came along, and Mom always blamed herself for my back. Dad tried to help; my mom wouldn’t let him. They resented each other. They went to counseling, got their shit together, and stayed together even though they’d fallen out of love and were basically friends that fucked every once in a while. Both wanted more kids but my mom stayed on birth control because she was afraid of having another deformed freak.
(For the record, I know I’m gorgeous, at least from the boobs up.) 

As for Quinn and Santana, they were doing fine. But Aunt Q was always Santana’s second choice, and she didn’t think twice about stepping out. And Quinn half the time didn’t seem surprised by it. I mean sometimes she was pissed, but a lot of the time she was basically just disappointed. They divorced when Kitty and I were eight. 
My folks on the other hand, when through two separations and reconciliations before Dad stopped exploding and figured out things weren’t going to get better. 
You sound angry. I’m not angry. I just don’t have a lot of respect for anyone in the situation. My parents tried shielding me from their problems by sending me to Quinn’s. Kitty was being a little whiny bitch about the whole situation. Santana was just being lazy by not leaving Quinn, and pretending the whole thing was some sort of illicit romance. My dad was being delusional, thinking he was in some kind of weird competition with Santana from my mom. My mom was just being dumb. 
Uh, I don’t think your mom likes that word. I’ll stop using it to describe my mom when she stops acting that way. She’s not mentally deficient, but she for some reason believes she’s nothing more than a pretty backup dancer. I suspect she’s just living up to Dad’s first impression of her. When you look at her yearbook, you can plainly tell she had a bunch of interests and talents, but that’s all gone now. If she wanted to leave my dad, she damn should’ve. 

I’m blonde too and you better believe I wasn’t in Hell going to accept any of my teachers and peers thinking I was an airhead. It’s not too hard to maintain a 4.0 when you simply do the work, study, and don’t take classes that are too hard for you. Like, I can rip AP World History and AP Stat new ones but AP Calc would whip me bloody. 
I love the imagery. I’d love to be all rainbows and puppies like my mom, or platitudes and kind smiles like my dad, but I’m just not.
Look, I’m resilient ‘cause my folks did a good job raising me. But having a mom who basically cries because her daughter has rubber legs sucks balls. So does your parents divorcing. I know it was the best thing for them, and I know I said I wasn’t angry about it, but to be honest, I’m super-pissed less because of it but more because my parents just fucking mismanaged their own lives.  
Personality ain’t genetic. And I had to spend a lot of time with Quinn when things got real stormy at my house. Bitch Mode may not be the kindest way to gain strength from strife, but it worked for me, like it did for Quinn and Santana.  
You don’t blame Santana? Look, I think Santana’s a coward, but trouble is I relate to her a lot. She knows what it’s like to take years to figure out your sexuality. And what it’s like for a cynic to fall stupid in love. My parents respect my sexuality 100%, but Santana relates. 
Anything else? Um, no. The interview’s over. I talked about my folks, I talked about my bestie, I talked about my girl. I talked about why I’m here. I talked about my sex life. So I don’t know about you but all my checkboxes are ticked. 
Well, actually I do have one more thing. Too bad.

Image Source: something-sweet, fyeahbram, fanpop, ravengleek, teen.com, homeofthenutty.com
Original Idea: televisionamist

How do you do? Jesus Christ, can we get on with this? 

Oh, sorry. Okay, so, uh, who are you? Stop wasting your time answering questions that you know the answer to. I introduced myself when I wheeled in. I’m Betty Pillsbury. 

But really, you’re… Phoebe Elizabeth Evans, child of Sam Evans and Brittany S. Pierce. 

Who’s your momma… oh. You go off a script, genius. I’m trying to save us both some time. 

 Look, I guess I’m just going to have to run this interview myself. 

You probably want to know about the chair, right? It’s the elephant in the room, no doubt. It’s a birth defect, a severely deformed T9 vertebra which left me paralyzed from the mid-torso down since birth. 

I’m so sorry. My exasperation has nothing to do with my paralysis. Back where I’m from, we’ve got a handle on the whole “handicapable” thing. 

If you want to apologize to anyone, tell it to my mom. She’s been depressed about it my entire life. 

That’s awful. I get where she’s coming from. She’s a professional dancer and it’s literally her whole life because she doesn’t have any hobbies. I know she about has a meltdown anytime one of her coworkers brings in their kids to dance. 

This is post-me by the way. If I’m aloud one jealousy, it’s ab workouts.

The kicker (no pun intended) is that I can dance just fine. The upper half of my body works great. I’ve got rhythm. I’m the captain of my cheerleading team. 

So what brings you to 2013? Artie Abrams. 

Look at you, Four Eyes, grinning at your functioning pudendal nerve.

Ooh, do I detect a little crush? Hell, no. Look, my folks and their glee friends have gotten through some hard times, but Artie’s life is the most effed-up. Basically, the wedding was going to be the start of a deep downturn, so I came back to give him a confidence boost so to speak, and now Kitty’s trying to nudge him back to his career goals. 

So you know Kitty? I’ll get to that in a minute. 

Anyway, it wasn’t hard to get Emma to claim she was my aunt. Fifty-two percent of my spine is defective and I’ve still got more of a backbone than her. 

Um, since you’re leading the interview, what’s next on the agenda? Can I talk about how he was crap in bed? Or how most guys are? You know I used to be bi, but when you’re a natural blonde with big tits and no sensation below the waist, you become kind of a magnet for guys who think they’ve got an excuse to be shit in bed. 

Yikes. Yeah, yeah, I’m like a human blowup doll to them. I know it sounds like I’m using the excuse that bad experiences with guys in bed turned me into a lesbian, but it’s not like that. 

Jenny turned me full lesbian. Or practicing lesbian, really. I still find certain guys attractive, but I’ve deemed them “Not Worth My Time”. Jenny is worth my time. 

Jenny? (sigh) I’d tell you all about Jenny, but you’ll get a chance to meet her, and, frankly, she’ll be a hundred times more fun (and cooperative) to interview than me. And I’d hate to deprive you of the pleasure, because, objectively speaking, she is the most perfect and awesome human being to walk to Earth. 

Huh. (grins) Look, you don’t have to say it. I turn into the world’s biggest fucking sap when I talk about her, but she really is amazing. She’s adorable, kind beyond belief, and a tiger in the sack. 

…That took an unexpected turn. Well, to be perfectly crude, getting me off requires a little patience and some alternative methods, and she’s the first person I gone out with that’s willing to go through the trouble. And not call it trouble. 

And since you asked, yes, I do return the favor. 

I completely did not ask. Whatever. I volunteer the information freely. 

Moving on to… anything else? I did say I’d talk about Kitty. Back home she’s my best friend. I bet she’s still pissed about Santana, right? 

Yeah. She didn’t say why though. She’s still be coy about it? Big surprise. I don’t know why she treats it like some big conspiracy. My mom and Santana had an affair. End of story. 

That’s it? It boils down to that. My mom and dad were happy for a while, then I came along, and Mom always blamed herself for my back. Dad tried to help; my mom wouldn’t let him. They resented each other. They went to counseling, got their shit together, and stayed together even though they’d fallen out of love and were basically friends that fucked every once in a while. Both wanted more kids but my mom stayed on birth control because she was afraid of having another deformed freak.

(For the record, I know I’m gorgeous, at least from the boobs up.) 

God, I love my girls. And the rest of me isn’t bad, just kind of meh. Not a lot I could do about it anyway.

As for Quinn and Santana, they were doing fine. But Aunt Q was always Santana’s second choice, and she didn’t think twice about stepping out. And Quinn half the time didn’t seem surprised by it. I mean sometimes she was pissed, but a lot of the time she was basically just disappointed. They divorced when Kitty and I were eight. 

My folks on the other hand, when through two separations and reconciliations before Dad stopped exploding and figured out things weren’t going to get better. 

You sound angry. I’m not angry. I just don’t have a lot of respect for anyone in the situation. My parents tried shielding me from their problems by sending me to Quinn’s. Kitty was being a little whiny bitch about the whole situation. Santana was just being lazy by not leaving Quinn, and pretending the whole thing was some sort of illicit romance. My dad was being delusional, thinking he was in some kind of weird competition with Santana from my mom. My mom was just being dumb. 

Uh, I don’t think your mom likes that word. I’ll stop using it to describe my mom when she stops acting that way. She’s not mentally deficient, but she for some reason believes she’s nothing more than a pretty backup dancer. I suspect she’s just living up to Dad’s first impression of her. When you look at her yearbook, you can plainly tell she had a bunch of interests and talents, but that’s all gone now. If she wanted to leave my dad, she damn should’ve. 

School newspaper, trivia competition, vlogging, show choir, cheerleading, photography club, animal shelter volunteering... she could’ve gotten into a better college than I will.

I’m blonde too and you better believe I wasn’t in Hell going to accept any of my teachers and peers thinking I was an airhead. It’s not too hard to maintain a 4.0 when you simply do the work, study, and don’t take classes that are too hard for you. Like, I can rip AP World History and AP Stat new ones but AP Calc would whip me bloody. 

I love the imagery. I’d love to be all rainbows and puppies like my mom, or platitudes and kind smiles like my dad, but I’m just not.

Look, I’m resilient ‘cause my folks did a good job raising me. But having a mom who basically cries because her daughter has rubber legs sucks balls. So does your parents divorcing. I know it was the best thing for them, and I know I said I wasn’t angry about it, but to be honest, I’m super-pissed less because of it but more because my parents just fucking mismanaged their own lives.  

Personality ain’t genetic. And I had to spend a lot of time with Quinn when things got real stormy at my house. Bitch Mode may not be the kindest way to gain strength from strife, but it worked for me, like it did for Quinn and Santana.  

You don’t blame Santana? Look, I think Santana’s a coward, but trouble is I relate to her a lot. She knows what it’s like to take years to figure out your sexuality. And what it’s like for a cynic to fall stupid in love. My parents respect my sexuality 100%, but Santana relates

Anything else? Um, no. The interview’s over. I talked about my folks, I talked about my bestie, I talked about my girl. I talked about why I’m here. I talked about my sex life. So I don’t know about you but all my checkboxes are ticked. 

Well, actually I do have one more thing. Too bad.

Later, hater.

Image Source: something-sweet, fyeahbram, fanpop, ravengleek, teen.com, homeofthenutty.com

Original Idea: televisionamist

Short URL for this post: http://tmblr.co/Z3fJMwnYNnrb