Princess in Training (The Princess Diaries 6)

So what do I even care about how I look?

FTLOUIE: What do you want?

WOMYNRULE: God, touchy much? Are you done talking to my brother yet?

FTLOUIE: Yes.

WOMYNRULE: You two make me sick. You know that, don’t you?

Poor Lilly. She and Boris went out for so long that she still isn’t used to not having a boyfriend who calls to say good night. Not that Michael was going to bed yet when he called, but he knew I was. Michael doesn’t have to get to sleep early because even though he is taking eighteen credit hours this semester—so that he can graduate in three years instead of four and take a year off before he starts graduate school and I start college so we can work together with Greenpeace at saving the whales—he purposely only chose classes that start after ten so he can sleep in.

You have to admire a man who is so good at planning ahead. I can barely even figure out what I’m going to have for lunch every day, so this is extremely impressive to me.

But Michael is an excellent planner. It would only have taken him about half an hour to move into his dorm at Columbia over the weekend (if the elevators hadn’t broken down), because he had everything so organized. I went with the rest of his family to help, and to see what his room was like, and to, you know, see him for the first time since getting back from Genovia, and all. I don’t know how much Columbia charges for its student housing, but I wasn’t very impressed. Michael’s room is very cinderblocky, with a view of an air shaft.

Not that Michael even cares. All he was concerned about was whether it had enough data jacks. He didn’t even look in the bathroom to see if it had one of those smelly vinyl shower curtains or the even smellier rubber ones (I looked for him: rubber one. Ew.).

Guys are so weird.

I didn’t meet his roommate because he hadn’t moved in yet, but the sign on the door said his name was Doo Pak Sun. I hope Doo Pak turns out to be nice and not allergic to cat hair or anything. Because I plan on being in their room a LOT.

Still, I felt bad for Lilly, on account of her not having a one true love and all, so I thought I’d try to cheer her up.

FTLOUIE: But it must be nice to have the apartment all to yourself now. I mean, isn’t that what you always wanted? No Michael to drink all the Sunny D and eat all the Honey Nut Cheerios?

WOMYNRULE: Whatever! Suddenly I have to do all MY chores AND Michael’s, too. And who do you think has to take care of Pavlov now?

FTLOUIE: Like Michael’s not paying you.

WOMYNRULE: Only twenty bucks a week. Hello, I worked it out, and that is only like a dollar a pooper-scooperful.

FTLOUIE: TMI!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOMYNRULE: Whatever. I suppose you LOVE scooping up after Fat Louie.

FTLOUIE: Fat Louie’s poops are cute, just like he is. Same with Rocky’s.

WOMYNRULE: Um, NOW who is giving TMI, baby-licker?

FTLOUIE: I am choosing to ignore that. Hey, do you think the part in Dr. Gupta’s letter about not wearing shorts beneath your school skirt is because Lana always wore Josh’s lacrosse uniform shorts under her skirt last year? You know, to show that Josh was her property?

WOMYNRULE: I don’t know and I don’t care. Listen, about tomorrow—

FTLOUIE: What?

WOMYNRULE: Never mind. Sleep tight.

FTLOUIE: ??????????????

WOMYNRULE: terminated

Seriously. I can already tell that being a sophomore is not exactly going to be a picnic.

Tuesday, September 8, Homeroom

OH MY GOD.

So I thought it was going to be so depressing to be back here. I mean, because school totally sucks anyway, but without Michael, it’s REALLY going to suck.