I know! You’re all, "Mia, why haven’t you updated your blog in so long?"
But hey, I was busy all summer, running the Royal Genovian Health and Wellness Awareness Center!
Which was very good training for running a small European principality someday, if you ask me. I mean, if you take into account all of the staffing issues we had, given the number of therapists who kept threatening to quit because they didn’t want to be the one to give Grandmere her weekly colonic.
(I know, ew, right?)
Anyway, I’m just glad the Health and Wellness Center is such an unqualified success, and that things are finally back to normal now (if by normal you mean my proposed solution to overcome Genovia’s temporarily shaky economic situation was implemented successfully, I’m back in the USA, and finally have steady access to wi-fi).
School has started, and this year—as opposed to my freshman year—I’m doing things right. I’m not letting any advisor talk me into taking classes that start before eleven in the morning (especially not some stupid fitness classes. What was I thinking???).
That’s right! I get to sleep in (or, if I’m spending the night in the city for any reason, such as–cough-spending-the-night-at-Michael’s-cough—I don’t have to break my neck rushing to get the train back to campus to get to class on time).
And I’m not taking anything that involves math. No! Nothing! I swear this semester I’m going to get straight As.
And best of all"¦I got to pick my own suitemates!
So I actually know the people I’m living with, as opposed to walking in and finding myself surrounded by a bunch of freaks.
Oh, I guess that sounds kind of harsh"¦especially since it just so happens that the freaks I walked in to find myself surrounded by last year are some of my best friends now!
In fact, we all chose to live together again this year (they don’t mind Lars. Actually, I’m pretty sure Shawna asked him out, even though neither one of them will discuss this with me. And of course Lars said no. Lars better have said no!).
But that was just luck! I mean that I got randomly assigned such wonderful freaks as my suitemates.
My feelings about this year was, better a freak you know than a freak you don’t, right?
Oh, gotta go, Shawna’s kidnapped Pamela’s Cabbage Patch Doll, Miss Polly Lollykins, and we’re going to send P. a fake ransom note.
Miss Polly Lollykins
I’m in charge of cutting out the letters for the note from Olivia’s collection of Bust Magazines. Emily is in charge of slipping the note under Pamela’s door. Then we’re all going to run.
P.S. Ha. Farah from across the hall just caught us running past and said we’re "so juvenile" (she thinks she’s so much more mature than we are. Typical psych major).
But no one else pays any attention to Pamela at all because she’s so shy and boring. I personally think it’s quite nice of us to kidnap Miss Polly Lollykins.
P.P.S. Oh, dear. Well, since I wrote that last part everything’s gone horribly wrong: Pamela got the ransom note and she’s deliriously happy about the kidnapping.
But for all the wrong reasons: Pamela thinks MICHAEL is behind it.
I’m not sure why. He doesn’t even go here. I mean, he just stops by to visit sometimes.
Emily says she thinks Pamela has a little crush on Micheal!
I sort of suspected something of the sort.
But I just thought it was one of those harmless little things that would never go anywhere.
But now it has gone somewhere, and turned out not to be so harmless. Our little prank that was meant to make Pamela feel special has made her feel a little too special!
It’s made her think my boyfriend is into her!
This is not good.
She’s on the phone with her mom right now, bragging to her that the boyfriend of the Princess of Genovia has kidnapped her Cabbage Patch Doll.
Um, hello. I don’t know whether to feel sorry for her or go over there and punch her in the face.
Deep breath. I’m a princess.
Shawna says we can fix it by hanging Miss Polly Lollykins from a chain by her neck out the quad window.
But Olivia says that’s going too far. And I sort of agree. I mean, Miss Polly Lollykins is just an innocent victim in all of this.
I won’t let Shawna cut off one of Miss Polly’s fingers to send to Pamela as a warning, either.
Oh, dear. Why do these things always happen to me???