Hey 100% Crazy!
I hope you are, right this very second, partying like it is your birthday! Because it IS. But you knew that.
When we first met, you were not sure you liked me that much. Alright, you did NOT like me at all (you admitted this to me later, well after the friendship had been cemented). Because at the time you were a Refined Serious Law Student working at a Major DC Law Firm so someday soon you could have a Big Legal Career doing Important Legal Work and Making Lots of Money. And I was all long blonde hair and lip gloss, ink still setting on my college diploma. I could (and did) spend an inordinate amount of time discussing matters like whether the toenail polish I was wearing was "too red." Sometimes, in my youth, I could be ... sort of ... vapid. Or something. And we had to share an office. I would borrow the stapler and Post-its from your desk and forget to put them back.
Our friendship did not happen overnight. I think, slowly, you got used to the idea of me in your space, not unlike how gradually a toddler realizes that her new little brother or sister is not going back to the hospital, so they may as well make the best of it and stop hitting them over the head with their blocks (at least while mom is looking). Over time, we bonded over our shared horror of certain firm partners' fashion sense (I mean - an electric blue skirt-suit?!) and our shared hatred of interoffice birthday cakes and certain words (you are one of the only people who not only appreciates, but understands, my visceral reaction to words such as "pot roast" or "moist").
You introduced me to the wonders of the Coach store and sauce spoons at Citronelle and lobster lumps (hold those flippery things!). I knew our relationship was serious when you risked your enviable career to commit a minor trespass on my behalf. You know what I mean. (HEY! I wonder if Cabbage is on Facebook yet? I'll be right back ...)
And then, one day, just like that, the two of realized we had become actual real-live friends. We made excuses to stay late at the office so that we could order dinner together in the conference room with RG and talk about things like how my borderline roommate would steal ketchup packets from 7-11. And we would laugh and laugh and laugh and talk and talk and talk. Sometimes I would talk and talk and talk and you would listen. Then we would IM, because one of us (usually me) still had things to say.
On a tangent here: You are the BEST gift-giver I have ever met. On the surface, it seems like giving good gifts might be a shallow remark about you as a person. But, it is not. It is a reflection of how you care so very much about the important people in your life that it brings you joy to give them That Perfect Thing -- that thing they would LOVE, but may not get for themselves. Just this past Easter, you sent me the most gorgeous bouquet of rainbow orchids. Like a party in a vase! When I asked why - for Easter? - you said that I deserved to have something pretty and nice for myself. Just because you wanted to.
I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I think you are one of the most elegant, generous, and supportive people I have had the pleasure to know. I treasure our long friendship so very much. I value and respect all of your advice and your selflessness with your time and spirit.
And ... you totally crack my ass up. I hope we are still laughing together when we are old, old, old ladies (even older than right now).
Hugs (and shit) - J
I hope you are, right this very second, partying like it is your birthday! Because it IS. But you knew that.
When we first met, you were not sure you liked me that much. Alright, you did NOT like me at all (you admitted this to me later, well after the friendship had been cemented). Because at the time you were a Refined Serious Law Student working at a Major DC Law Firm so someday soon you could have a Big Legal Career doing Important Legal Work and Making Lots of Money. And I was all long blonde hair and lip gloss, ink still setting on my college diploma. I could (and did) spend an inordinate amount of time discussing matters like whether the toenail polish I was wearing was "too red." Sometimes, in my youth, I could be ... sort of ... vapid. Or something. And we had to share an office. I would borrow the stapler and Post-its from your desk and forget to put them back.
Our friendship did not happen overnight. I think, slowly, you got used to the idea of me in your space, not unlike how gradually a toddler realizes that her new little brother or sister is not going back to the hospital, so they may as well make the best of it and stop hitting them over the head with their blocks (at least while mom is looking). Over time, we bonded over our shared horror of certain firm partners' fashion sense (I mean - an electric blue skirt-suit?!) and our shared hatred of interoffice birthday cakes and certain words (you are one of the only people who not only appreciates, but understands, my visceral reaction to words such as "pot roast" or "moist").
You introduced me to the wonders of the Coach store and sauce spoons at Citronelle and lobster lumps (hold those flippery things!). I knew our relationship was serious when you risked your enviable career to commit a minor trespass on my behalf. You know what I mean. (HEY! I wonder if Cabbage is on Facebook yet? I'll be right back ...)
And then, one day, just like that, the two of realized we had become actual real-live friends. We made excuses to stay late at the office so that we could order dinner together in the conference room with RG and talk about things like how my borderline roommate would steal ketchup packets from 7-11. And we would laugh and laugh and laugh and talk and talk and talk. Sometimes I would talk and talk and talk and you would listen. Then we would IM, because one of us (usually me) still had things to say.
On a tangent here: You are the BEST gift-giver I have ever met. On the surface, it seems like giving good gifts might be a shallow remark about you as a person. But, it is not. It is a reflection of how you care so very much about the important people in your life that it brings you joy to give them That Perfect Thing -- that thing they would LOVE, but may not get for themselves. Just this past Easter, you sent me the most gorgeous bouquet of rainbow orchids. Like a party in a vase! When I asked why - for Easter? - you said that I deserved to have something pretty and nice for myself. Just because you wanted to.
I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I think you are one of the most elegant, generous, and supportive people I have had the pleasure to know. I treasure our long friendship so very much. I value and respect all of your advice and your selflessness with your time and spirit.
And ... you totally crack my ass up. I hope we are still laughing together when we are old, old, old ladies (even older than right now).
Hugs (and shit) - J
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