A History of Greatness

When I met her I was about 20 years old and working in an office. She was a temp, placed at the reception desk. She was so spunky and cool and fun. Her wrist was wrapped in a black tribal tattoo, her hair was short, dark, and cut in those funky layers that we all wish we could pull off, but can't. She was funny. Loud and often inappropriate, just like me. We clicked. We connected. We became inseperable. I once told her that if I was a lesbian I'd date her. She laughed hysterically because she thought the same thing about me.

Eventually, she was transferred into my department. I was ecstatic. Who wouldn't be? I was literally getting paid to bullshit with the coolest chic I had ever met. Suddenly, I didn't mind going to work anymore. It was fun again. Well, maybe fun isn't the right word. How about hysterical...uproarious...a total effing blast. Yep, that's it...A TOTAL EFFING BLAST.

As the company grew larger another soul invaded our office space. I think his name was David. David was a short, timid man, with a receding hair line and the worst body odor you have ever smelt. (Smelt? Smelled? Eh, whateva...) He was revolting to be around and made our pleasant work environment not so pleasant. Imagine working in a sub shop surrounded by massive amounts of onions all day. THAT is the equivalent of our daily nostril intake. But, other than that, it was like he wasn't even there. He was quiet, mousy, practically invisible. Which is why Cindy and I often forgot he was in the room.

Our conversations during the day ranged from lewd and rude to downright disgusting. No topic was off limits. No subject to inappropriate to discuss in the office. It was our space, you see. Hers and mine. David, well, he would just have to sit there and deal with it. Which he did...while sweating profusely because, well, did I mention that before coming to work in our department he was in Seminary School? Yep. Homeboy was studying to become a priest. A PRIEST! D'oh!

No wonder that poor man sweat so much. I can't even imagine how many times we sent him home flushed with the guilt of his desire because of the things Cindy and I dished about. Poor dude. I betcha our "sin" stuck to his sweaty ass like glue and he had to go to daily confession to be cleansed. Eh, whatchugonnado, right?

Anyways...Cindy and I were friends for years after we met. I couldn't imagine my life without her. Which is why I was devasted when we lost touch. I thought about her constantly and even wrote her sappy little letters that I never mailed declaring the emptiness of my heart because she wasn't in my life anymore. We have since reconnected. (I posted about it once. I would link to the post but am too damn lazy to search my archives for it.) MySpace brought us together again...can you believe that shit?

Anyways, we don't see each other as often as I'd like these days. We both have a family now so life kind of gets in the way. You know how it is. But, I wanted to post this because, for some reason, I've been thinking about that time in my life. That carefree, fun-filled moment in life when time seems to stand still and the party seems to last forever. During that time, she was there. By my side. Throwing back beers and slammin' down shots.

Cindy, if you read this girl...you're the bomb. Don't ever forget it.