Thursday, June 26, 2008

This Is About And For Camie

Camie. I first met her when John M. and I were frantically trying to find a place to live at the end of the summer of 2005. There were some openings in her neighbor's apartment, but they weren't home. So we went to Camie's to see what the inside was like. Camie showed us around graciously. When we started down the stairs to the basement, the fragrance of her perfume wafted to my nose, and I couldn't help myself; I told her she smelled good. I like to think that that is why we've been friends since.

In the few months that Camie and I were neighbor-friends, she often gave me rides to the Metro on her way to work. These were precious moments, people. We'd talk about her work, and that's all I remember talking about. But I remember dreading coming to the Metro stop and forcing myself to get out. We probably started calling her car The Black Beauty around this time.

One time Camie, Anna, and I went to a movie, and when we came out we saw that The Black Beauty had a flat tire (or was it Anna's car?). Even though Camie was wearing pointy boots and a fancy, soft, smooth coat, we changed that tire in around 3.5 minutes. It was the most efficient tire change outside professional racing.

Camie and I have a standing, annual date: her work Christmas party. There was the year her drunk co-worker humped my leg, which was also the year I forced that guy to proclaim his sexual orientation to the group, the year that neither of us knew anybody but the crepes were so good, and the year that the gay, turquoise and pink suit wearing man brought a pretend girlfriend.

Camie has given me furniture, taken me to dinner, invited me to parties, picked me up from the airport, and helped me feel good about myself. The only thing I've done for her is help her move once, and she fed us McDonald's. In return for all her kindness, I will attempt to respond to her tag:

10 years ago I was following Camie's footsteps at CHS as a senior. I didn't know it at the time, but I think the special feeling I felt in those halls everyday was Camie's influence.

Today I need to study for the bar. And everyday until July 29. I also need to make home teaching changes, revise my resume, write a cover letter, and make sure there are enough elders to help a girl move on Saturday.

Snacks: chips and salsa. Especially black bean and corn salsa. I love salt.

If I were a billionaire I would pay off all my student loans and my truck. Then I would buy a place in the city. Then I would replace all the clothes I've been wearing for years. Then I would save the rest since I don't have a job. Maybe I'd buy Camie a present.

At this point in my life, I would live in NYC, DC, Chicago, San Francisco, Tokyo, or London.

Jobs I've had: piano teacher, grunt at a nursery, reading tutor, MTC teacher, summer associate at a hospitality corporation, intern with the Maryland-National Capital Park and Planning Commission's Montgomery County Planning Board's Legal Counsel.

There you go, Camie.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Neighbor-Friends and Ho Goods

Preparing for the bar stinks, people.

Camie, at, blogged about how great (and rare) it is for neighbors to be friends. Well my neighbor J-LLoyd, my roommates, and I have become great neighbor-friends. Each Sunday we have Boyz Brunch, and it is delicious every time. That may currently be my favorite part of the week.

On Saturday night, Nikki, April, J-LLoyd, and I went to Shoppers because we needed supplies for Boyz Brunch and munchies for our movie. I like Shoppers, even though they cater to a section of the population of which I am not a part, because they play nothing but the best music, and I literally sing out loud for most of the time I'm there. The store next to Shoppers is Home Goods. As we pulled into the parking lot, the stars aligned and I noticed that the "M" and the "E" on the sign were not lit, making the store the perfect place for all your prostitution needs. We took several pictures below the sign, in poses that suggested promiscuity, but my favorite was with April, leaning back against the brick, one hand behind her head, and the other hand holding her personal watermelon that she put up her dress (she looked pregnant). It was ho funny.