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Yet another crazy day. Steve is gone. Allen is in the office. One boss to another. This is not necessarily a bad thing. I mourn the loss of Steve-my-neighbor-and-friend much more than I do the loss of Steve-my-boss.
So for those of you following the Diary Survivor 3 game, my entry for immunity challenge six won me immunity for the last tribal council.
Aww yeah! I wish I�d had a webcam set up on my mom�s computer. You all could have shared in my victory dance.
I�m sorry Mike is gone, though. I�m going to miss having him on the island.
So today is May 6th.
Seven years ago tonight, my then-friend Brett and I ventured in to Roslindale on her friend Dicky�s invitation, to a �get weird� party he and his friends were throwing. He and his three male roommates were all wearing dresses.
We walked in the front door and were greeted by Adam, stylish in his sister�s spangled prom gown, Marlboros stuck in the cleavage. Brendan and the Artboy, whom I�d met just twice before that night, waved from the kitchen, both wearing dresses from their friend Ivy�s closet.
Around Midnight, three Ciderjacks in, I noticed that Adam had changed out of his gown. When I asked why, he said, �Because it�s Jaeger time, and I can�t be in a dress for Jaeger time!�
I looked at him and innocently asked, �What�s Jaeger?�
Fifteen minutes later, I was backed against the kitchen wall, surrounded by partygoers chanting �DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!� as I stared dubiously at the atrocious smelling brown liquid Adam had poured into the shot glass.
I had never done a shot before.
Someone whipped out a magic marker and traced my outline onto the kraft paper the housemates had lined the kitchen walls with. As I finally gagged down the Jaegermeister, Adam wrote, �Jen did her first shot ever right here!� The Artboy penned next to it, �And looked mighty sexy doing it, too!�
Twenty minutes later, I was propped against the wall in the hallway, staring up at the Artboy, discussing his scary neighbors, who were holed up in �the star room� downstairs. The Star Room was home to a non-functional Jacuzzi and little else, with midnight blue painted walls covered with glow in the dark stars. The neighbors were rumored to be snorting coke off some random girl down there. The Artboy was less than thrilled.
�Don�t worry,� I said, �they won�t be your neighbors much longer. You�re moving in a week.�
At that moment, I thought, �Man, if I don�t move, he�s going to kiss me.� Then I thought, �God, he�s tall.�
By the time I got to tall, he was kissing me. The kiss and the Jaegermeister made for quite a spinny head. Ten minutes later, I was in the cab with Brett, the Artboy�s number in my pocket, the taste of him still on my lips.
Every year since then, for better or worse, Adam and I have done a Jaeger shot together on May 6th.
Every year until now.
I haven�t seen Adam in months. The Artboy isn�t a part of my day-to-day. I�m getting married in 110 days.
I don�t need to do a Jaeger shot this year.
But that doesn�t mean I�m not smiling at the memory of kissing boys in dresses in strange hallways, overtaken by new liquor. It�s a life I�ve left behind, but one I�m certainly glad I had.
Salud, Adam. Salud, Artboy.
I raise my glass to you tonight. Even if it isn�t full of Jaegermeister.
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