For the record, I did not graduate in 1986. I wish I did, however, for one reason: so I could 86 people on a regular basis.
During a costume change at EAR – Part Deux, one of our alumni opted to don one of my favorite accessories – a furry, black ‘Zoolander’ jacket. As always, the jacket was the perfect accessory. While the rest of us made several costume changes, she stayed in the Zoolander. The evening soon turned into morning and I noticed my Zoolander was missing, as was the alumnus wearing it. I soon found both laying atop my bed. Not wanting anyone to drive home intoxicated, and realizing she had no intention of sleeping anywhere else for the time being, I offered her something to sleep in. She declined and I returned to the stoop.
A few minutes later, I realized I left my camera in my bedroom and returned to find it. Just as I approached my room, she was walking out, in the Zoolander, holding a pillow. She said nothing to me, went into the bathroom and shut the door. It was then that it hit me. Literally. Smack-bang in the face. The smell of bile. And as I walked across my floor, I felt it. It was like Nickelodeon was hosting the reunion and my room had been slimed. Or, in this case, biled. My bedding was ruined, as was my Zoolander. On My Terms was disgusted and repeated a phrase she had been saying all night, “Elite Alumni Reunion. Elite!”
While the alumnus in my Zoolander attempted to clean up in the bathroom, I cleaned up my bedroom. The latter included 86ing my sheets, pillows and, saddest of all, my Zoolander – which she finally returned to me, covered in mozzarella, clam dip and the like. “Nobody likes a party pooper puker,” On My Terms later said to me. “Party pooper puker is definitely not synonymous with elite,” I replied. In addition to actually throwing up on my stuff, she had been throwing up verbally on all of us all night. “With that much poison inside, it’s no wonder she puked,” On My Terms wisely stated. I concurred, thought about my Zoolander and then smiled knowing what Derek Zoolander would say, “I’m sorry that good-looking people like us made you throw up and feel bad about yourself.” Yes, so sorry. I’m not sorry to say, however, that you’re 86ed.