I wonder how long it takes to forget the fastest way to drive from the South End to Beacon Hill or the quickest way to walk from the North End to the movie Theatre on the Commons? I spent my first few days in Boston with a t-pass, traveling the subway, attempting to learn and conquer every neighborhood. I’ve lived in Somerville, the North End, Dorchester, the South End, and Eastie. If the geography gets fuzzier with time and distance, I hope the memory of my Boston friends does not.
I want to pick on a few of you who have colored (I’m looking at you Amy) my 10 years here:
-Dan. I’m not sure exactly how we first met but we were young Jehovah’s Witnesses who shared a love for art, music, and booze which is immediately enough to get you kicked out of the church. I had a blast with you making fun of bible-thumpers and being the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, sluttiest Jehovah’s Witnesses that Boston will ever see. I’m happy that we escaped and that you found Erika who is quickly becoming on of our favorite people on the planet.
-Mark. Mark McGrath probably doesn’t remember but we first met when I was probably 12 or 13. I was at a family reunion complete with cans of Bud Light, volleyball, hot dogs, and a riveting discussion about NASCAR. I was daydreaming about my real family pulling up the driveway in their Rolls Royce, putting me in an Armani suit and whisking me away to a Park Avenue penthouse. I stopped daydreaming/jump roping long enough to see a handsome young Mark walking into the backyard with a slightly effeminate man at his side. The reunion was a potluck and Mark brought Foie Gras. I ran over to my Teen Vogue and scribbled in the margins, “Look up cousin Mark after high school.” I’m so happy I did. Thank you for being a mentor and a friend.
On June 1, 2007 Mark risked his life to marry Essie and me in front of the crack heads and prostitutes of Blackstone Square in the South End. Thank you for being part of the happiest day of my life.
-I’d next like to give a shout out to the brown lady in the back. Amy and I go way back to high school were we used to sneak into gay bars underage and make out with boys. We lost touch when she was disfellowshipped and I went on being a JW zombie. We randomly bumped into each other during a snow storm in Downtown Crossing a few years ago and became friends again. I was afraid to getting to know you again after having abandoned you as a brainwashed JW but you have an amazing ability to forgive and move on. Thank you for literally holding my hair back when I was puking out the window of a taxi after my bachelorette party.
-Ben, the mere fact that you make my best friend happier than I’ve ever seen you is reason enough to be friends with you. Fortunately, you’re also awesome. If you break Amy’s heart, Essie and I will rape you. You both are closer than family.
-To the other ethnic friend, Sheryl. I was afraid to meet you and Alan because Essie had built you up to god-like status. I think we probably broke the ice on the dance floor, hip checking frat boys so that we could pop and lock within our own personal space. I know you love us because you took Essie to NYC for his bachelor party, rolled on ecstasy, slept for 45 minutes, got on the Fung Wah in time to get trashed with my bachelorette party at Jacques without skipping a beat. You are a fucking professional.
-Anne Continelli, you are such a cunt. Let me recount our first conversation:
Me: Are you a lesbian?
Anne: Did you just pirouette?
Anne slept over at my place early in our friendship after a show we had been working on. We did a bar crawl up Washington Street. Anne was wearing a shedding red feather boa which later became known by my neighbors as the “Cherokee Trail of Feathers.” Anne, your laugh is infectious and should be patented.
But really I have to lump Steph and Anne together because we have so much history. The three of us spent the summer of 2004 basically jobless and drunk. I could barely come up with my rent but could find $20 to go get drunk with Anne and Steph at Club Café.
-Steph, you are the most creative person I know and you have made every birthday, holiday, and toilet seat more fun. Anne, Steph, and I have a special bond because we’re all dramatic alcoholics who met our boyfriends on the internet. Steph and I were supposed to pack up for New York but we spent too much time trolling the internet and found Essie and Jon who stole our dreams and our “bohemian” lifestyle. Thanks guys.
-Seriously Jon, you reigned in Steph and made her exponentially more awesome. Your enthusiasm doesn’t even annoy me anymore. Also, you can engage Essie when he wants to talk about positrons while Anne, Steph and I discuss the intensity of Anne’s last yeast infection. You have the sweetest of hearts and I can’t wait to show you our new city.
-And to my other little electron, Kyle. You are such a refreshing contrast to Anne’s cuntiness. You put up with constant harassment about being a gamer while still willfully coming to all of our parties and engaging us in intellectual debate. Also, if Keanu Reeves, John Cusack, and Gandalf had a baby, it would be you. Thanks for putting up with us, please come visit.
-Speaking of “putting up with”, don’t mind my friend Deb. She may be little and unnoticed but she will cut a bitch if you get in her way. Deb and I are ladies who lunch. We’re ladies who lunch over a bag of salad and 3 bottles of prosecco, followed by a nap. Even thinking about being in a room with Deb and a bag of pot makes me laugh harder than Anne’s resume. You are the only one here who has actually seen Austin, so I’m counting on you to harass everyone to come visit in your little, annoying way. Deb, you, Anne, Steph, Amy and I are the Sisters of the Immaculate Collection and put every other bridal party to shame with our polyester nun costumes, crucifix confetti, and drunken rendition of Son of a Preacher Man. I worship you guys.
-Lesa, you are my favorite lesbian MBA. You kept me sane during our 18 months together in grad school. I remember leaning over to you during a lecture on supply-chain management and whispering, “What are we making again? Widgets or Chatchkies?” At an Irish Pub on a class trip in DC I taught Lesa the chorus of every Irish song ever written: They ate our food and stole our land so early in the morning. …and other Gaelic phrases like, “Is that a potato in your pants?” …and remember that time we got totally wasted at Auschwitz?
On a serious note, I’ll never forget standing with you at the Lincoln memorial, hearing about your protests and die-ins when the Reagans wouldn’t even utter the word AIDs. You showed me firsthand what an activist looks like.
-Thank you Shelagh for being Lesa’s rock during school and for adopting Essie and I when shit gets bad. We love you both and daydream of lazy afternoons on Herring Cove long into the future.
So, after 10 years in this shitty town of fucked- up roads and high taxes, I can leave knowing that if we get plowed down by an 18 wheeler or gay bashed at the waffle house on our road trip, at least I will die with my favorite person but I will also die with the memory of you. I’m in love with your memory.
To old friends and new starts.
I want to pick on a few of you who have colored (I’m looking at you Amy) my 10 years here:
-Dan. I’m not sure exactly how we first met but we were young Jehovah’s Witnesses who shared a love for art, music, and booze which is immediately enough to get you kicked out of the church. I had a blast with you making fun of bible-thumpers and being the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, sluttiest Jehovah’s Witnesses that Boston will ever see. I’m happy that we escaped and that you found Erika who is quickly becoming on of our favorite people on the planet.
-Mark. Mark McGrath probably doesn’t remember but we first met when I was probably 12 or 13. I was at a family reunion complete with cans of Bud Light, volleyball, hot dogs, and a riveting discussion about NASCAR. I was daydreaming about my real family pulling up the driveway in their Rolls Royce, putting me in an Armani suit and whisking me away to a Park Avenue penthouse. I stopped daydreaming/jump roping long enough to see a handsome young Mark walking into the backyard with a slightly effeminate man at his side. The reunion was a potluck and Mark brought Foie Gras. I ran over to my Teen Vogue and scribbled in the margins, “Look up cousin Mark after high school.” I’m so happy I did. Thank you for being a mentor and a friend.
On June 1, 2007 Mark risked his life to marry Essie and me in front of the crack heads and prostitutes of Blackstone Square in the South End. Thank you for being part of the happiest day of my life.
-I’d next like to give a shout out to the brown lady in the back. Amy and I go way back to high school were we used to sneak into gay bars underage and make out with boys. We lost touch when she was disfellowshipped and I went on being a JW zombie. We randomly bumped into each other during a snow storm in Downtown Crossing a few years ago and became friends again. I was afraid to getting to know you again after having abandoned you as a brainwashed JW but you have an amazing ability to forgive and move on. Thank you for literally holding my hair back when I was puking out the window of a taxi after my bachelorette party.
-Ben, the mere fact that you make my best friend happier than I’ve ever seen you is reason enough to be friends with you. Fortunately, you’re also awesome. If you break Amy’s heart, Essie and I will rape you. You both are closer than family.
-To the other ethnic friend, Sheryl. I was afraid to meet you and Alan because Essie had built you up to god-like status. I think we probably broke the ice on the dance floor, hip checking frat boys so that we could pop and lock within our own personal space. I know you love us because you took Essie to NYC for his bachelor party, rolled on ecstasy, slept for 45 minutes, got on the Fung Wah in time to get trashed with my bachelorette party at Jacques without skipping a beat. You are a fucking professional.
-Anne Continelli, you are such a cunt. Let me recount our first conversation:
Me: Are you a lesbian?
Anne: Did you just pirouette?
Anne slept over at my place early in our friendship after a show we had been working on. We did a bar crawl up Washington Street. Anne was wearing a shedding red feather boa which later became known by my neighbors as the “Cherokee Trail of Feathers.” Anne, your laugh is infectious and should be patented.
But really I have to lump Steph and Anne together because we have so much history. The three of us spent the summer of 2004 basically jobless and drunk. I could barely come up with my rent but could find $20 to go get drunk with Anne and Steph at Club Café.
-Steph, you are the most creative person I know and you have made every birthday, holiday, and toilet seat more fun. Anne, Steph, and I have a special bond because we’re all dramatic alcoholics who met our boyfriends on the internet. Steph and I were supposed to pack up for New York but we spent too much time trolling the internet and found Essie and Jon who stole our dreams and our “bohemian” lifestyle. Thanks guys.
-Seriously Jon, you reigned in Steph and made her exponentially more awesome. Your enthusiasm doesn’t even annoy me anymore. Also, you can engage Essie when he wants to talk about positrons while Anne, Steph and I discuss the intensity of Anne’s last yeast infection. You have the sweetest of hearts and I can’t wait to show you our new city.
-And to my other little electron, Kyle. You are such a refreshing contrast to Anne’s cuntiness. You put up with constant harassment about being a gamer while still willfully coming to all of our parties and engaging us in intellectual debate. Also, if Keanu Reeves, John Cusack, and Gandalf had a baby, it would be you. Thanks for putting up with us, please come visit.
-Speaking of “putting up with”, don’t mind my friend Deb. She may be little and unnoticed but she will cut a bitch if you get in her way. Deb and I are ladies who lunch. We’re ladies who lunch over a bag of salad and 3 bottles of prosecco, followed by a nap. Even thinking about being in a room with Deb and a bag of pot makes me laugh harder than Anne’s resume. You are the only one here who has actually seen Austin, so I’m counting on you to harass everyone to come visit in your little, annoying way. Deb, you, Anne, Steph, Amy and I are the Sisters of the Immaculate Collection and put every other bridal party to shame with our polyester nun costumes, crucifix confetti, and drunken rendition of Son of a Preacher Man. I worship you guys.
-Lesa, you are my favorite lesbian MBA. You kept me sane during our 18 months together in grad school. I remember leaning over to you during a lecture on supply-chain management and whispering, “What are we making again? Widgets or Chatchkies?” At an Irish Pub on a class trip in DC I taught Lesa the chorus of every Irish song ever written: They ate our food and stole our land so early in the morning. …and other Gaelic phrases like, “Is that a potato in your pants?” …and remember that time we got totally wasted at Auschwitz?
On a serious note, I’ll never forget standing with you at the Lincoln memorial, hearing about your protests and die-ins when the Reagans wouldn’t even utter the word AIDs. You showed me firsthand what an activist looks like.
-Thank you Shelagh for being Lesa’s rock during school and for adopting Essie and I when shit gets bad. We love you both and daydream of lazy afternoons on Herring Cove long into the future.
So, after 10 years in this shitty town of fucked- up roads and high taxes, I can leave knowing that if we get plowed down by an 18 wheeler or gay bashed at the waffle house on our road trip, at least I will die with my favorite person but I will also die with the memory of you. I’m in love with your memory.
To old friends and new starts.
1 comment:
I'm so glad you posted this - it meant a lot that I was first on the list - whether that be alphabetical reasoning or not:)
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