Yolo (26 page)

SnowAngel:

showed up for pledge meeting with my hair in a ponytail and was told I looked like hell.

SnowAngel:

so I returned to dorm room to fix hair before going to frat party tonight, and guess what?

SnowAngel:

Lucy! at my bureau, with A BLOB OF MY PHILOSOPHY HOPE IN A JAR MOISTURIZER IN A DIXIE CUP!

SnowAngel:

I was like, “Lucy???”

SnowAngel:

and then she squealed and dropped the dixie cup, meaning that my Hope in a Jar was now “hope splattered on gross dorm room floor.”

SnowAngel:

“LUCY?!!!” I said again, very sternly. “wld you care to explain?”

SnowAngel:

“explain what?” she asked.

SnowAngel:

“why you're stealing my beauty products!!!!” I yelled. I'm telling you, I wanted to strangle that girl!

SnowAngel:

first she blushed, and then all the color drained out of her face. and then . . . and THEN!

SnowAngel:

“you mean this?” she said, pointing at the floor
where the splattered moisturizer was. “it's not yours. how do you know it's yours?”

SnowAngel:

“because it IS,” I said.

SnowAngel:

“are you sure?” Lucy said. “I mean, you have so much beauty stuff. so many types and kinds of products . . . maybe you're confused.”

SnowAngel:

and then she gestured at my night cream and my Kate Somerville deep tissue repair cream and the Laura Mercier foundation that I sometimes mix with my moisturizer since it's too thick on its own. also my Tarte maracuja oil, which you KNOW I love, and my cheek color and my lip stain and all my lipglosses and eyeshadows and primers and mascaras and my Shu Uemura eyelash curler and EVERYTHING.

SnowAngel:

wtfffffffffffff?

SnowAngel:

do I enjoy beauty products? yes.

SnowAngel:

do I have so many that I get confused about what's mine and what isn't? hells no! and even if I did, does that give Lucy the right to help herself to whatever she wants?

SnowAngel:

not to mention that you CAN'T share mascara or you could get eye diseases, unless that's a myth, but anyway, gross! no thank you, Lucy's eyelashes!

SnowAngel:

I told her, calmly, that I was very aware of my beauty product inventory, and that I was not and never wld be confused about such an important topic.

SnowAngel:

she said, “why are you yelling?”

SnowAngel:

she tried to hide something behind her back, but I wrestled it away, and it was a Ziploc bag full of other tubes and little containers and half a dozen of my individually wrapped facial wipes. I said, “omigod are you a psycho? are you a HOARDER?”

SnowAngel:

she said ow and started hunting for a Band-Aid, but I was so not letting her off the hook just because of a little blood.

SnowAngel:

“this is MY STUFF, Lucy,” I said. “you can't take my stuff without asking.”

SnowAngel:

“I'm not,” she said. her eyes were huge and starting to look teary, which pissed me off even more because it made me feel sorry for her even though she was the psycho hoarder, not me.

SnowAngel:

“then who is?” I said. “your invisible friend named Marge?”

SnowAngel:

“Marge?” she said, wrinkling her forehead.

SnowAngel:

“and what wld happen if I went and searched behind the dumpster, huh?” I said. “wld I discover your stash—I mean Marge's stash—of stolen contraband? HMMMM?”

SnowAngel:

I was proud of myself for “contraband,” btw. I felt very “Law & Order,” and the only thing that ruined it was her stupid trembling lip, because then I felt like a huge jerk. I rubbed my hand over my face and said, “fine. whatever. just . . . leave my stuff alone. I don't mess with YOUR stuff, do I?”

SnowAngel:

she said in this tiny voice, “you can if you want to,” and suddenly *I* was the big jerk, or that's what it felt like. because she was being so meek and I was being so . . . not.

SnowAngel:

I had to get out of there because I didn't know what to think, or what to say, and when you have to escape YOUR OWN ROOM in order to not feel guilty about the fact that yr psycho roommate is messing with your stuff, you know things are bad.

SnowAngel:

I didn't even get to do my hair, because my straightening iron is in my room, while I am sitting in the hall with my hair still in a ponytail.

SnowAngel:

SHE EVEN SMELLED LIKE LA LA MALIBU, WHICH AS YOU KNOW IS MY SIGNATURE SCENT!

SnowAngel:

she claimed it was an “accident.” that it “spilled” when she was reaching for something else, and that she actually felt faint because of how strong it was. OMFG!!!!!!!!!

SnowAngel:

not “locked out.” self-exiled.

SnowAngel:

and no. I'm now in the convenience store on the first floor of my dorm, cuz Lucy *also* stole my box of Kleenex, the good kind with lotion.

SnowAngel:

the only Kleenex they sell here is the scratchy institutional-grade Kleenex that isn't even real Kleenex. it's called “Dub'l Puff 1-ply Facial Tissue.” I don't even know where to begin.

mad maddie:

I don't either.

mad maddie:

if it's 1-ply, shldn't it be called Sing'l Puff?

SnowAngel:

I was sitting outside in the hall, but the longer I sat there, the more worked up I got. finally I told myself, “Angela, this is stupid. you are allowed to go into your own room.”

mad maddie:

right you are

SnowAngel:

so I did, and I saw that she'd put back my moisturizer and the tubes of makeup-y stuff. yay, right?

SnowAngel:

but nooooo, cuz she rewarded herself for being so virtuous by stealing my box of Kleenex instead. *throws hands up in air*

mad maddie:

what'd you do?

SnowAngel:

I said, “Lucy? why did you take my box of Kleenex?” and she blinked really fast and said, “what box of Kleenex?”

SnowAngel:

“the yellow box of Kleenex right there,” I said, pointing at her man bag, where the corner of my Kleenex box was poking out as clear as day.

SnowAngel:

so get this! she zipped her man bag all the way shut, clutched it to her chest, and said, “I think you're confused.”

mad maddie:

why do you call it her “man bag”? IS it a man bag?

SnowAngel:

I said, “hell yeah, I'm confused! two minutes ago my Kleenex box was on my bedside table and now it's in your stupid man bag! and, newsflash, zipping your man bag up doesn't make what's inside of it magically disappear!”

mad maddie:

what then? did you march over and say, “unhand your man bag, you cad!”

SnowAngel:

no, cuz she stood up and scuttled out of the room like a . . . like a crab. a crab clutching its ugly crab man bag. I yelled, “bring back my Kleenex! give me back my Kleenex!!!”

mad maddie:

and yet . . .

mad maddie:

it's Dub'l Puff for you now, huh?

SnowAngel:

you better not be laughing.

SnowAngel:

and if I end up mysteriously dead and chopped into pieces, you have to go to the police with this. promise?

mad maddie:

yes ma'am. absolutely.

SnowAngel:

in the meantime . . . well, I don't know. Lucy still claims she isn't stealing my stuff, but how she expects me to buy that load of crap is beyond me. I'm going to video her in the act and she WILL get her comeuppance!

SnowAngel:

we have rearranged my room so that there is just enough space, barely, to hide behind my bed.

SnowAngel:

we will be hiding there vair soon, stocked with chips, Coke, and of course our phones. Reid is going to video Lucy. I'll take the still shots.

SnowAngel:

and of course we won't eat the chips once we hear her coming. too loud, der.

SnowAngel:

wish us luck!

zoegirl:

not saying your bed is size of a dorm room (though wld be awesome).

zoegirl:

Angela?

SnowAngel:

also Reid says hi to both of you, but he is a very loud potato chip cruncher and he is going to have to stop that when

SnowAngel:

fuck bye good luck franaodnq!