Whale Girl could not dispel the visions of the New Hotness standing in her kitchen as she stood in her room. For the love of God! - they used the communal dishes to make their food! Whale Girl was beside herself because they did not heed the message in her sign: NO COMMUNAL DISHES IN MY KITCHEN! Whale Girl first had to beach herself, drag herself along I-25, and then push her way up the stairs of Montgomery Hall in order to make the sign. How dare they use communal dishes and then leave them in the sink?!

As she donned her organic hemp nightgown and brushed her teeth with all-natural kelp paste, Whale Girl died a little bit each time she heard the New Hotness girls talking in the kitchen. They could have at least had the decency to go outside to talk!

Whale Girl de-barnacled herself, turned off her lamp, and settled into her buckwheat pellet bed. She pulled the organic hemp/non-GM cotton blend comforter up to her chin and tried to sleep. As she lay in bed the New Hotness continued making their spaghetti. They used non-organic tomatoes. They chopped non-organic onions. They cooed over the pungent non-organic garlic.

The aromas from the first-floor kitchen wafted up to her third-floor sanctuary sometime around 10p.m. She tried to ignore the forbidden yet delicious aroma of the spaghetti, but it disturbed the body odor infused aura of her room.

After several hours of tossing, turning, and muffling her whale cries, Whale Girl got up with the sun. She went to her windowsill to water her aloe plant (the crazy orange-haired Croatian damaged it last year in Ticknor) and to check her personal DOPLER radar for the weather conditions in the Atlantic. Whale Girl ascertained that she could in fact enjoy a nice swim that day after all.

She slipped her modest frock over her head (hand-sewn by Guatemalan orphans) and set out for the kitchen. No deodorant, you ask? Of course not!

What she saw in her kitchen shocked her. Her crystallized organic honey had been left on the countertop. Someone had cleaned the stovetop with a community sponge. A bottle of hot pink Palmolive sat at the edge of the sink. Why, oh why did they not use the all-natural non-sudsy dish soap? The tall one with the curly hair always used that dreadful pink soap!

She took out a cup of her plain goats milk organic yogurt, sat down at the table, and began picking the bugs out of her organic broccoli for dinner that evening. The rest of the day was uneventful until..

Dinnertime. Those damned New Hotness girls sat at the table and had the audacity to use her organic peppercorns.

"Hey, guys," she said (in her whale voice), trying to sound cheerful.

"Hey, what's up?" asked the Palestinian.

"Oh, nothing. Have you guys seen my blue hand-painted earthenware mug?" The whale pitch grew louder and increasingly desperate.

"Yeah, I'm using it for my Mountain Dew®. I'll wash it when we're done," said the Palestinian.

Whale Girl looked at her earthenware mug and gasped. The Palestinian had been wearing lipstick! There was lipstick all over the rim of the mug!

She quickly backed up, spun around, and nearly screamed her whale scream when she saw the tall girl with the prominent posterior ("ghetto booty" as it were) eating a 12oz. T-bone steak. It was not hormone-free beef!

The room started to spin. She ran upstairs, sat down at her desk and maniacally scribbled out more signs to cover the walls of her kitchen. The New Hotness girls had responded to her other signs with signs of their own (the infamous "Lick my ass" sign, for example). Whale Girl continued with her sign making into the wee hours of the night (11pm). "Do not sit at the table between the hours of 7a.m. and 8p.m." "Do not attempt to store any of your utensils, food, or cookware in any of the cabinets." "All those in violation of the aforementioned regulations shall be subject to the courts of whale society.."