Most of you don't know Lizzy, so I suppose now is as good a time as ever to give her a little ink. Oddly enough, when I met her over three years ago, I was her unpaid intern. We didn't not converse, but we really didn't communicate one-on-one. I was the intern whose "office" was in the copier room, so it made sense. After the internship, I became her coworker, and we worked side-by-side on one of the agency's largest accounts. We started doing happy hours, and happy hours turned into Wednesday night dinners. Wednesday night dinners brought forth wine, Modern Family and Cougar Town, and wine brought forth a confession that I irrationally missed my hamburger phone. It wasn't long after that Wednesday, that Lizzy came into my office holding my very own - modern hamburger phone (see photo). And only a few months later after that, I accepted a job which would make me her client. As a parting gift, she gave me her childhood koosh ball, which really spoke for itself.
Not all that surprisingly, we made the new client/agency arrangement work. I remember when I was serving jury duty, I was parking at the agency, since it was close to the courthouse. Every day I would walk by her office window - always late, somehow - and I'd slap a post-it to the glass as I shuffled by, almost always alarming her and certainly always with a snide message. Some days she waited, her keen eye on the window to catch me in the act, and most days, I returned from court to find a note of my own, stuck to the inside of the window and facing out towards the street.
But label as we did those sticky-note months, it's actually quite complicated to attempt a sticky-note-esque label on Lizzy. In fact, it might be easier to describe her by the things she dislikes, than what she really likes. Allow me to begin: The iPhone; people who wear heels at sporting events; people who wear the wrong jerseys to sporting events (insert Phoenix Suns jersey at an Arizona Diamondbacks game); dogs in baskets; people in costumes (yikes, mascots); parking (this is a BIG one); loud noises (like a firework); drivers who dramatically slow down for cops; LOL; odd volume levels (She likes to stick to the evens, while I insist on multiples of five); slow texters (specifically not responding for hours to a simple text); and bastards.
I know the list will keep growing, and even as she drives further and further away as I type (turn around, damnit!), the good times do not plan to stop rolling. My fearless friend - snap straight up! (see photo) - I'm excited for you to open this new chapter in your life, and even more excited to be a part of it, a mere 300 miles east. Take a picture of those wallscapes, and keep your eye on the mailbox for you may soon be receiving you very own... Big Carl.
Bastard!
2 comments:
Seriously. Its like, okay buddy, he already has someone pulled over, so you think hes gonna sprint back to his car and check you speed, which by the way was already bellow the speed limit before you slowed down! Moron.
Personally, I like to speed up on such an occasion.
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