i love this meme and it's been a while

[emchy]

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADEUP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want -good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.
When you're finished, post this little paragraph in your journal and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.
(Only if you so desire,of course)

Comments

Cindy and I

[figgenhoffer.livejournal.com]

One hot summer day, Cindy has just sent me to the marijuana club for a nickle bag. I returned and she rolled a joint, we stepped into an alcove which turned out to be the Power Exchange, which was a kinky sex club during the night, not open at all during the day, thus perfect for avoiding rollers and passing a jay. We finished up, and we about to leave and get a sandwich and some tea at a place nearby, when an excitable gentleman came directly up to me and asked very vehemently for a hit, a hit, could he have a hit. This was strange behavior for stoners, and I realized he was not talking about a toke on a joint but some other kind of substance altogether, I told him to take off, and Cindy and I also left, feeling much lighter, and hungrier.

[lofiordie.livejournal.com]

it was monday. i knew it was monday because i had that here i go dragging my feet to work again feeling in my stomach. it could have been tuesday, but i didn't have that i-cant-believe-it-is-only-tuesday feeling in my stomach.

the problem with being a junior high school english teacher is that no matter how hard you try sometimes the kids just don't seem to get it. and you work harder and harder every week and sometimes you dont make any headway.

the only thing that helps you get by are those thirty minutes in the morning and thirty minutes in the afternoon spent in the teacher's lounge.

cindy and i had been teaching at carver jr high for a combined total of 13 years, her 7- me 6. she liked to joke all the time between our cups of instant coffee the school provided us at no charge that she'd been here so much longer than me and couldn't wait to retire before me.

we'd take our coffee in our favorite chairs- the ones away from the window where we wouldn't have to see any of the prepubescent students doing their awkward preteen and early teen rituals that totally irked us. it was cute the first couple of years but now it was just down right frustrating. (4 and 5 years in we began taking our instant coffee with those little bottles of whiskey you get on airplanes).

on this particular monday we walked into the lounge to find that the cronies from the math department had decided on sitting in our chairs. now normally we wouldn't revert to such childish behavior but we simply knew we had to assert our territory. these were our seats and everyone knew it and we couldn't let this happen. besides, it was the only part of the lounge hidden enough for us to slip just a little bit of that whiskey that would get us through our 5th period classes.

the war had began... (to be continued?)

[doppmonster.livejournal.com]

Okay, so you remember that road trip that we took last summer in the VW Beetle with the ducktape bumper to Wyoming to see the once-every-fifty-years event where the moon is perfectly focused in the middle of a perfectly round lake two minutes before a lunar eclipse? Well, APPARENTLY, it actually happens EVER year and the naked guy selling cigarettes in the back room of the tattoo shop at the Four Corners truck stop off of Rt 64 actually LIED to us about that.

But it was pretty cool watching you wear bunny ears and rock out to Journey standing on top of the beetle in front of that mormon church on Sunday morning and getting all the dressed-up teenagers to join in with you, so I think it was worth it.

[abostick59.livejournal.com]

Maybe I was a little bit over my head at that poker tournament in Montenegro, but I stayed out of the main event -- you know, the one where that crazy Royal Navy officer with the thousand-yard stare put a hella bad beat on some creepy financier for the win -- because the cash games were so damned good.

So there I was, playing a half triple-draw, half badugi mixed game with rich idiots who couldn't remember that the ace is high in deuce-to-seven. I was in the middle of a run of bad cards, the sort where they are so bad you don't lose very much because you know better than to play them. I folded my hand and stared into space across the casino floor, wondering if it was raining in Cincinnatti, when I noticed someone staring back at me: a woman wearing a chic little black dress and flat slippers. Was that ... ? It couldn't be! What would she be doing here? But of course it was: Cindy Emch. So I got up from the table and went to talk to her, find out why she was here. Her answer: "Sometimes love takes you strange places." You can say that again, sister.

[gordonzola.livejournal.com]

dude, I did this like ten years ago.

[cindymonkey.livejournal.com]

oh i know - yours is one of my favorites - you're totally off the hook. welcome back. how were the yurts?