TODAY

Drama Queen candidates
Back-stabbing, ankle-biting sluts ... and the women who loved them

Contestant No. 1
Contestant No. 2
Contestant No. 3

Vote now!

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TABLE TALK

Are you afraid of becoming your mother? Discuss in Table Talk

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ARCHIVES

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Mamafesto
By Camille Peri
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

[ CONTESTANT No. 1 ]

A REALLY BAD TRIP
By Mardou Fox
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At first, it wasn't apparent that my roommate Lori was adding rather interesting ingredients to the dinners she served up so enthusiastically. You see, drugs had never interested me: Drinking yes, drugs no. Lori, on the other hand, was well versed in the ways of sinsemilla, 'shrooms and acid. She thought it was amusing to add what she called "botanicals" to my food without my knowledge. The first effects were just mild digestive irritations, but as she increased the "doses," I experienced mild hallucinations, nightmares and paranoia. I was convinced that I was having a breakdown and made an appointment with a psychologist. Since it was a free clinic, I had to wait two weeks before the psychologist had time to see me.

It was also about that time that I noticed my perfume supply diminishing -- an observation I chalked up to my increasing paranoia. In addition to this, items of clothing I was sure I'd put away clean were soiled when I took them out of my closet. I thought maybe I'd developed a multiple personality.

One week before my scheduled appointment, I went home to spend a long weekend with my family. My boyfriend, Jake, phoned just before I was leaving the apartment to ask if I'd be around because he was going to be in town the next evening. I said, "I'll be at my parents' home, give me a call there," and then ran out to catch my cab. Jake never called.

On Monday night, when I got home, Lori was drunk and crying. She had something awful to tell me: Jake stopped by on Friday night and one thing led to another and goodness, when she woke up they were in bed together! I said that this just took the cake, here I was fearing for my sanity and my best friend and boyfriend hop into bed together. Then she confessed everything: drugging me, stealing my perfume and borrowing my clothes without asking.

I was so relieved that I wasn't losing my marbles that I called everybody I knew, including friends on the West Coast. Honestly, sleeping with my boyfriend was bad enough. Telling me about it was even worse. But the very worst was drugging my food and letting me think I was going stark-raving mad.

The next day, my best guy friend helped me move out. He insisted that I take everything I'd brought to the apartment, including the toilet seat. I never saw Lori or Jake again and I didn't pay the enormous phone bill I ran up on that last night.

I never found out why she did it. I hadn't wondered about it since, until today.
SALON | Feb. 25, 1998

Contestant No. 1 | Contestant No. 2 | Contestant No. 3 | Vote now!