I Was Working as a Waitress in a Cocktail Bar

Here is my friend Jeff's profile picture on Facebook. It could possibly be the best profile pic ever.

Tonight I'm going to start this new thing. Who knows if I'll ever finish it, but I like to at least start things. So, I'm still obsessing over Facebook. If you'd like to tell me I need a life, you'll have to get in line, and believe me, it's longer than you can imagine. The thing that's so crazy about Facebook, is how many people from almost every part of my past are on it. I told my friend K. she should get on it, and then a friend of hers from high school emailed her about it, and once she did, she realized they had a whole group just for people from her high school class.

So, the thing. Remember I said I was going to start a thing? Okay, what I really want to do, is write little notes to each of these people (some I haven't spoken to in well over twenty years) and tell them the things I remember about them, or miss about them or the thing I got from them that really made a difference in my life. Yes, I know. Actually doing that, would be weird and possibly creepy. So, I decided to take a person here or there and write all those things about them here on my blog, where they probably won't ever see it. Is it still weird and creepy? Yes, but hopefully they'll never find out.

The first one I'm going to write about is my friend Jeff. Ready?

Dear Jeff,

I can't remember the first time I met you. I knew your sister Tam and then when I moved back from California, we started hanging out and along with our friend Lia, were almost inseparable for a few years there. We had a class together, taught by the most boring man I've ever met. We were both at about the same spazzy, ADD levels, so we decided to take turns going to class and then sharing notes. Except, you never went, so I would go and share my notes with you and then you'd lame-out and finally, I just went all the time and gave you my notes. I couldn't even be annoyed with you.

Hey, remember that one time they had the Kurt Vonnegut hoax? I don't think he lived in town anymore, but he came back to visit a lot. Then there were suddenly fliers all over town that he was going to give a reading on the Pentacrest. We skipped our classes and hung around for a couple of hours, before we and however many other hundreds of people realized we had been duped and Kurt wasn't showing. We both appreciated the prank and you said next time you were going to do one, but you'd tell everyone that Judy Blume was going to read from Are You There God? It's Me Margaret instead. I told you I'd still skip classes for that and you told me I better.

You were also there the time I swallowed mace. Earlier in the day, my friend Mary Beth, showed me her key chain and asked me if I wanted some Binaca. Then later that night when we were really drunk at the Foxhead, I was thinking that I hadn't tried Binaca in a long time and sprayed what turned out to be mace directly into my mouth. Yeah. Tears instantly came out of every pore and orifice on my face. Craig was tending bar and there was a cute girl ahead of me, so I knew I was never going to get a glass of water from him. I went outside where it was 20 below zero, and you followed. You tried to act all concerned, but the second you saw that I was not only fine, but laughing through my tears, you said, "Oh thank god. Because I didn't want you to see me laughing my ass off if you were really hurt." I was fine 10 minutes later and then someone drove us to Donutland in Coralville where you continued to tease me about it for the rest of the night while we ate chocolate fudge donuts.

We both graduated in December of 1990. I think you, and Mary Beth Eastwood and I were all putting our English BA's to good use slinging coffee for minimum wage. At that point, we lived across the street from each other and you and Mary Beth used to come over in the afternoon and lament our joblessness together. We used to sing "Don't You Want Me" to our potential employers at the top of our lungs on my back steps.

The last time I saw you, was when you came to town shortly after I split from my husband. I told you why, and you said, "I knew it had to be something bad. You usually put up with more shit than anyone I know." I'm sure it was true. My girls were three and five, and you had never met them before. You got them so spazzed and riled up, I didn't think I'd ever get them to sleep after your visit.

When your sister came to town a few years ago, she talked me into riding the last day of RAGBRAI with her. You just wrote on my wall and told me you were coming to visit me next Summer. I can't wait to see what kind of crazy, spastic shit you'll get me and my daughters into then.

Love,

Churlita