Wednesday, May 26, 2010


I am a little nervous to announce that today is my friend’s special day.


I put a little extra time into this one because Tabitha HATES attention. I need to get it just right. She already made it clear recently that I was never to put her photo in my blog. And I don’t think she was mad when I posted her picture here a couple days after our little talk because it was taken in the dark during Earth Hour. If you look carefully, you can see the outlines of her trying not to have fun in one of the pics. She was playing video games on her cell phone in protest of me turning off the TV seven minutes early. So even though I’m a little concerned about how Tabitha is going to take this, I’m not going to give in to petty fear. Don’t worry, Tabitha I AM COMMITTED TO HONORING YOU ON YOUR SPECIAL DAY.

I’ve already figured out what I shouldn’t bring up. Tabitha hates it when I talk about that time her dad called her My Beautiful Swan as they stood and watched an actual swan in a pond. I wasn’t there but I almost feel like I was. There are SO MANY THINGS she probably wouldn’t want me to talk about but I think I’ll stop there. It is her birthday.

Instead, let me tell you how I know Tabitha. She lived in the college dorms with Bindy, when I suddenly arrived as a junior transfer. We were Bindy’s best friends. The first time I met Tabitha was a few months before I moved into the dorms. I was visiting Bindy when a pretty girl with mod hair and black eyeliner, wearing a baggy sweater and holey jeans, came in and plopped down a box of wine on Bindy’s desk. She filled up a keg cup then left the room. If she doesn’t sound very friendly, you’re right . . . she wasn’t. I’m not exactly known for going out of my way to talk to new people either, especially if it was Bindy’s other best friend. It took us awhile.

I really warmed up to Tabitha when I discovered she liked that show How’d They Do That? I loved that show because it gave you answers. I learned that she and I share an inner drive for information. Tell a story to Tabitha and she’ll hammer out the details with follow-up questions. She needs to work it out and I totally get that.

Nineteen years of memories with Tabitha include . . .

Driving to Vegas to see the Grateful Dead. The Deadhead invasion of the Strip was something to see. During the show, which was outdoors in the desert, there was a thunderstorm in the distance. The sky was sunny and dark gray with lightening strikes . . . and maybe rainbows? I’m sure I’m not exaggerating. It made the hippies writhe in pleasure.

Hours and hours of playing cards in smoke-filled rooms. Asshole. Crazy Eights. Cribbage. These days, it’s Scrabble and fresh air for about an hour.

But my favorite memories with Tabitha are all the times we laughed at Bindy.

Another thing about Tabitha that brings me joy is our shared hate-love of The Bachelor/ette. The premise is ridiculous. It’s overproduced, corny, embarrassing. A lot of the time, I can’t even give it my full attention. I have to look at it over a laptop or magazine. Tabitha hides behind pillows. And we keep watching. I didn’t even know a new season was starting this week, and it was just what I needed. The guys they got for Ally are cheesy and overeager and weird. (Wait . . . I just have to say that one guy’s plan to impress the bachelorette was to tell her his nickname is Shooter because he ejaculated prematurely in his freshman year of college. He was upset when she sent him home and he walked off in tears. He really thought his plan was working.) It’s so bad, it's good! And Tabitha not only understands that, she likes to communicate about who we like and who we hate. I got a text from her as I was writing this, “Just started bach. love cape cod guy.” (I personally thought he was a little weird but let me take another look.)

Really, Tabitha is the kind of friend everyone wants . . . she will drive hundreds of miles if you need her. She has been hugely supportive of me during rough times. She has always been disciplined about being there for all her friends, even when some of us were less mature about that kind of stuff (me). I would say I’ve learned something about friendship from her. And Tabitha . . . that’s why you’re our beautiful swan.

And just so you don’t direct all your anger at me, here’s Bindy . . .

Hi, it’s me Bindy. Ahh, Tabitha, where do I begin? To know her, really know her, is to love her, and sometimes hate her, but always love her. She was one of the first people I met freshman year of college. She is not an immediately funny and outgoing person. If you didn’t know her, you might think she was, let’s say “aloof.” I’m one of her best friends, and I am still frequently on the receiving end of her sharp-toned crabs. I think I must annoy her to all end. And don’t try to be cute with her in the morning. She is decidedly not a morning person. When I hang out with her in the morning, I sometimes believe that just the fact that I exist is bothersome to her.

BUT, she is one of the best friends I’ve ever had. If I’m ever stranded in a Mexican prison at 3:00 a.m., the first person I’d call (after my lawyer) is Tabitha. Because Tabitha would actually get in her car and drive down and pick my sorry ass up. And it wouldn’t even occur to her not to do it. She’s just that type of person. When my mom got sick with a terrible cancer 3 years ago and got home after major surgery, Tabitha drove down immediately (we’re 4 hours apart) and we made a chicken casserole for her so she wouldn’t have to cook. When I got sick she spent hours on the phone and researching on the internet for me. When I was getting married, Tabitha sent me links to a thousand wedding dresses. There are countless other times when Tabitha has been there for me. Way too many for me to enumerate here, and besides, we all know my memory isn’t that great. And Tabitha is probably ready for this painful ode to end…

So, Tabitha, this mini- blog’s for you. Happy Birthday. I love you!



  1. I miss all of you sorry fuckers. Come see me a do cannonballs off my divingboard.. especially Bindy. I am in the mood to hear a little Queen La Quiffa.