Hey Michael Lauran,
Remember the time all five of us went to Vieques, Puerto Rico, and Jen Demartino and I narrated every move you made as you made it? Remember how our narration took the form of nostalgic questions? Remember how we drove you crazy? Remember when we all went rafting and swimming in the Bioluminescent Bay and then ran away when the other tourists got pissed at our narration? Remember the time that parrot nearly took my hand off? Remember when the pilot flew us in his hoopty-like mini van with wings from San Juan over the rain forest, and he gave me the controls since I was sitting in the co-pilot seat? Remember when you all screamed in real terror? Remember when the locals told us later that he was a total drunk?
Remember the times we went swimming in such a clean & clear ocean and then how we went back to our hotel each night and got free drinks at the lovely outside bar? Remember the very cool kick-ass locals we vowed to stay in touch with? Remember when that local “lady” of the village cornered Jen on the dance floor and danced up and down the length of Jen’s body singing, “Trabajo,” over and over until Jen couldn’t look anymore panicked?
Remember the time Jen moved to L.A. and became some famous casting agent who shows us the town & goes dancing with us when we visit? Remember the time you were living in San Francisco, and I was missing you? Remember when you sent me & Jen a Regina Spektor video that reminded you of Jen’s and my antics? Remember the time I wrote you a blog post that barely touches on our history but denotes the love we share just enough? Remember when I signed a blog post to you, “Love, Amy”?