as queer as a clockwork orange

If you hear excited squeals coming from a suite harboring the four Asian girls, you will probably think we are gossiping about guys. You might imagine us being introduced to a hot friend on skype by a friend halfway around the world. You might think, “Oh, they’re probably celebrating the fact that they all aced their exams.” You might be wondering, “Wow, they actually have voices.” You might finally realize, “Wow, they actually exist in this suite.”

But no, you’re quite wrong about us. We don’t squeal about guys or exams. Guys and exams…nothing special about them. They aren’t sweet enough to satisfy our cravings. They aren’t that perfect slice of beauty packed into a nice translucent plastic box. They’re always the stress causers, not the stress relievers. They don’t evoke that irrational impulsive reaction upon seeing a Boston cupcake. Yes. We squeal about food. We cry in agony when we don’t have good food. Conversations revolve around food. We are still mourning the death of Bear’s Den.

This is why I love my suite like no other. And we do exist, maybe just not in your world.