Here's the deal:
If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, please post a comment with a completely made-up and fictional memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - but it has to be fake.
Then copy the paragraph above on your own blog.
"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." — Groucho Marx
Remember
I saw this at Dorothy's place and decided to use it here.
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9 comments:
I remember the time you and I spent an amazing evening together attending the best Barry Manilow concert ever, held on the banks of Lake Erie in the middle of a snowstorm.
Oh man... can you remember that Bush rally we went to with DovBear last year?! That was awesome - especially when PsychoToddler got up and played his "Ode to Bush" single... DB was jumping all over the place, SoccerDad was passed out drunk, and you... well, I'm really not sure what the hell you were doing. But I remember it was hilarious.
I guess it must've been about, I don't know, nearly twenty years ago. I was working as a prison guard at that medium-security house in West Virginia for extra money over the summer. I can't even remember what you were in for. I want to say auto theft, but it might've been gang or drug related. Anyway, I digress.
As I recall, you were making the best of your time there- you had this group that crocheted baby blankets for a shelter, and you were teaching Torah to the born-agains. And you led minyan, but man, the fights that would rage over your pronunciation.
I kinda lost track of you when you were sent to solitary for a week; I was transferred to a facility in the northeast, then went on to marry well, record a hit single and cure cancer. I was really surprised to see that you've got a blog. Keep in touch, willya?
Remember when you used to come over to our house to hang out with my brothers? You'd always raid the kitchen -- you loved gefilte fish along with matzah spread with mayonnaise, and every time you came over, you'd ask us: "Any gefilte fish to be found 'round these parts?"
That time you were almost bar mitzvah and you came over and decided to play dress-up with my and mother's clothes really stands out in my mind. I still have a picture of you wearing those black heels, a black pushup bra and a mink stole on top of a Pablo Cruise t-shirt!
"Memories, may be beautiful and yet, what's too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget..."
Remember when you were in NYC on business last year, and I met you for dinner at the Algonquin and we got drunk on martinis and then staggered off to Duane Reade and bought those big fat sharpie markers and went around midtown crossing out "Merry Christms" every where we saw it and writing barely legible "Happy Holidays" over it?
That was awesome.
I've already got my "wiki bio" up at http://www.diarytown.com/golfwidow/bio.html, but you're welcome to remind me of any other memories with me at any time and I'll still add them.
Except this one: the time we got stuck outside the courthouse and were late to Mr. Larch's trial because we couldn't find a kosher carpark.
("I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so anyway ...")
Fake? Oh my wondrous Jack wabbit, say it isn’t so? I shall be forever crushed into a smattering of tiny little broken heart and gut pieces, if you choose not to acknowledge the connection we shared. It was late one October eve … oh, I remember it so well. Don’t you, my magnanimous Heroic hare?
I had just traipsed through Euphemism Wood, (previously named, “The Big Bad Unmentionable”), and was on my merry way to Lucky’s pub … (where all the cool cats hang). The full moon shone its luminescence upon my path that fateful eve, as if it were guiding my steps to your gargantuan heart. {sigh} Such fond memories …
I glided gracefully up the concrete steps and pushed my way through the swinging-doors. It was then that I stopped my paws dead in their tracks. For there you were … roasting in the warmth of the iron pot, above the flickering flames. Our eyes met instantly … yours filled with such longing that tears had begun to form (how sweet) … mine hungrily devoured you from the tip of your delectable ears, all the way down to your husky hind legs. Mmm … I could hardly believe my luck! But then, I was frequenting an aptly named environment, wasn’t I now?
I licked my bright pink lips in appreciation and approached.
“Good evening, Sirrrr,” I greeted you, with my most winning smile. “I cannot even begin to express my delight, nor my gratitude, in finding one of your tenderness in a place such as this. Why it fairly boggles my mind that you would go to such lengths to grant my pleasure.”
Do you remember what happened next, my Big Broiling Bunny of Hunger Fulfillment?
{smile}
Your long, furry-ears laid back in the cutest fashion and your charcoal eyes widened as they took in my form.
“B…b…but you’re a rabbit t …t …too,” you stammered in a most endearing way. Which caused me to lick my chops all the more before I responded, “Silly rabbit, it’s naught but a costume you see. Now do be a dear, sweet Jack and allow me to gobble you up, for I’m really quite famished.”
(What? Don’t roll your eyes at me … I did mention that it was October, ya know.)
Anyway, it was then that you gave yourself to me, Jack … every last delectable piece. It was the most generous gift I’ve ever received, (Well, let’s just leave ‘Sammy the Squirrel’ out of this now, shall we.) Yes, you gave me your heart that night, Jack (as well as your kidneys, thighs, liver, ears, and even your tongue). How could you have forgotten such a final act of generosity?
Silly rabbit … your no bunny, ‘till some bunny loves you. And for but one night, I was that bunny (albeit disguised) and I loved you, Jack … Oh, how dearly I loved you.
Of course, were I to change any moment of that incredible eve … I do believe I’d add more salt.
Goodbye, my love … you will be missed.
~ Crafty Cat ~
Stacey,
I remember that. You said that it was too cold and that you couldn't wait to move to somewhere nicer.
Ezzie,
That was a good time. The reason you can't remember what I was doing was because I was the designated driver that evening. You guys drank so much Slipovitz. How did you do it.
Judi,
Those were some of the hardest years of my life but I learned so much from them.
TP,
You forgot that your brother Moishe said for $20 that he'd wear your clothes and walk down Yonge Street. I didn't get involved until Avi offered to pay me $20 as well. That was a crazy day.
Dorothy,
That is one of my favorite memories. Thank G-d for Duane Reade because the next day I really needed that Tylenol.
GW,
That Mr. Larch deserved everything he got.
Stacy,
You lost your e what happened to it.
I ate it my dear, Jack ... got hungry again.
{grin}
Actually, I'm a different Stacy, than the Stacey above. Guess you just got lucky to be blessed with two of us this day.
btw ... thanks for the fun. I enjoyed my visit here immensely! So much so that I've added you to my blogroll ... that way I have easy access.
Ha! Be afraid, be very afraid.
Just kidding. There's really no need for fear.
{my most winning smile}
Have a grand day ... um, er ... night. And then have a marvy day tomorrow!
Toodles,
~ Stacy ~
(with no e)
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