I remember how Kessler and I first became friends. When she randomly G-chatted me, "tell me something weird about yourself."
I remember when Mendenhall disappeared. We had fun coming up with theories of what she was up to, though I hated that she had a secret life.
I remember when I went to Cancun the second time. I hadn't seen my family in several months and I remember being so shocked that my youngest sister had boobs. She hated that I couldn't stop talking about them.
I remember when Smeekens came to visit. We all bought I <3 NY shirts in midtown.
I remember when Katherine came to visit. I remember drinking too much free wine at the Chinese restaurant and almost missing the Ingrid Michaelson show.
I remember that I couldn't remember the Of Montreal show. Only that the singer came out naked on a white horse at some point and that Carolyn cried when they covered Smells Like Teen Spirit.
I remember the terribly long trips to Coney Island. I was always hungover and the subway rides were unbearable. But once we got there it proved to be worth it: the stick game in the sand, the hotdog eating contest, the Broken Social Scene show.
I remember the Suitcase Lady.
I remember being terribly, terribly broke.
I remember when Reens and Neens came to visit. They fought of course and one of them locked herself in the bathroom while the other kicked a hole in the door. Several months later I got drunk and tried to fix the hole with a can of Spackle while drinking a beer. I felt like a man.
I remember living with drug dealers.
I remember our trips to Vermont, Maine, New Hampshire, Atlantic City.
I remember when we went to New Orleans. I was so hungover the day that we left. I tripped over nothing as we stood in line at the airport. Just fell on my ass as everyone looked on and laughed. And then the man sitting next me on the flight home tried to save me. I was too sick and tired for Jesus.
I remember happy hour. Lots and lots of happy hours.
I remember how much I hated the winter and how much Mendenhall loved it.
I remember throwing wine and cheese parties. Having friends over for dinner.
I remember awkward sleepovers and nights I could barely remember.
I remember when Wendy Jones came to visit. We fought rats off in the kitchen forcing them to jump out the window.
I remember smoking weed at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park with a Yugoslavian rickshaw driver at midnight.
I remember being lonely and depressed. I remember deciding that I just couldn't live there anymore, but worrying that I had made the wrong decision.
