Happy birthday, Jackie!

In honor of Jackie’s birthday – which is today. We have been dear friends since college.

Random quotes and fragments from our long long friendship:

— “Where is the delivery boy with that fabric morgue??”

— After college, we both got jobs working on an assembly line at a local factory. One of my fellow assembly-line workers had gone to high school with me, and she gave me this look when I first walked onto the factory floor and said, “What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t you go to college??” Jackie would come pick me up at 5 o’clock in the morning, so we would be able to take our places “on the line” at 6 a.m. It was very bleak. Afterwards, we go out and have some beers at a local tavern. We referred to ourselves as “Paula and Lynette” (you know, from Officer and a Gentleman). A strange in-between time for us – aimless, not worried about having to make plans yet. And oh, the stories of that factory!!

— “I had to wear 40 fuckin’ corsets on that shoot. 40 fuckin’ corsets.”

— “I was married to that Nazi bastid for 30 years and I got NOTHIN’.”

— Tequila shots and Caroline

— The infamous M., my crazy old flame, calls my house – Jackie picks up. What I love about this exchange, is that they just both went with the game. Ba-dum-ching.
Jackie: “Hello. Tony’s Pizza Palace.”
M.: “I’d like a Sheila to go.”
Jackie: “And what would you like on that?”
M.: “Nothing.”

— “Beneath the bad haircut and the 2 dollar jeans beats a heart of gold.” (Jackie, defending one of her old boyfriends to her skeptical friends)

— “Are those …. your tents? Tell ’em Mrs. Baaaaarney sent ya…… They’ll know.” (I seriously need to write up the story of Mrs. Barney one day. It is humor on an almost apocalyptic level. We were on an island in the St. Lawrence Seaway and we were actually told, via messenger the next day, from people on ANOTHER island, if we could please keep it down in the future. That was how loud we all were laughing.)

— We did a production of My Cup Ranneth Over (excerpt from play here) – one of my favorite college productions I ever did. And, like, 40 people saw it. Major great memories working with Jackie.

— At an open mike with her in Chicago. We sang as a duo. A fuse blew – and the entire bar was plunged into darkness. We were there with M., my guy – my grumpy curmudgeonly guy. There were all these musicians there, with guitars that needed to be plugged in, the microphones didn’t work – no electricity – so the open mike came to a stop – Mayhem ensued. M. yelled thru the dark at the organizer, “Hey, there’s an a capella group over here!!!” Being helpful. I had a MAJOR heart-crack. So Jackie and I made our way to the stage – PITCH BLACK – the place was packed – people were still drinking – the cash register happened to be an old-fashionied manual one – so you could hear the pounding of the keys – and Jackie and I sang our entire repertoire, a capella, until the lights came back on. One of the most magical nights of my entire time in Chicago. You could have heard a pin drop in that place while we were singing.

— We dressed up in terrible bridesmaid dresses in college for a Halloween party and went as “The Sweeney Sisters”.

— Our Sunday night dates when I first moved to Chicago: We would walk down the street to My Pie – and we would have a mug of beer each, and share a pizza. My favorite pizza joint in Chicago. Then we would walk back to her place and pull the TV out of the closet (she kept it in there for the majority of the time) – to watch Life Goes On – a show we were completely addicted to.

— “He ripped my brown wool leg-wraps.”

— Oh. The carnage we caused.

— All the men we dated. The HOURS of conversation about them. Meeting up for coffee, or drinks .. to talk about this or that man. Supporting each other. Laughing. Crying. Whatever. Just there for each other. I was there on the day she kind of “discovered” that she loved Stuart, the man who is now her husband. A magical freezing day. They weren’t even dating yet … but something shifted that day. Something shifted. She and Stuart are very happy, and have two children.

— I sang at their wedding. It was an honor.

— During our time on the factory assembly line, we got a job – for one night only – as lingerie models, at a private party. This is another story I need to write some day. Only with Jackie would I be a lingerie model at some random house somewhere … we both rebelled against wearing any nightgown with “empire waists” – we both have big boobs, and “empire” does not work well for us. We actually got into fights with the organizer of the thing, standing there in our underwear in the back room, looking at some flowy empire-waisted nightmare, and both of us saying, “No. I am not wearing that.” We were the only two models there – so the organizer was effed, basically. We tried to put a layer of IRONY over the whole experience, so that we could survive it with our souls intact – but it was not easy, man. It was all very Flashdance. By day? She works on an assembly line. By night, she rocks an empire-waisted naughty nightie and tries to keep her soul intact!

— Jackie and Mitchell came to a Halloween party dressed as Jackie’s grandparents, Chester and Millie. (Click below the fold to see the image.)That is one of my favorite photos of my friends EVER. TAKEN. Look at the anxiety in Mitchell’s eyes. Chester doesn’t know WHAT is going on, and he feels a little bit out of his comfort zone. And look at Jackie’s face. Her mouth is open. Her hand pats Chester’s arm comfortingly. She is so obviously soothing Chester. “It’s all right, dear, it’s all right …”

— Jackie said to me once, when I was torturing myself about having three dates on one day, “You are a burning icon in the Chicago sky.”

— One night Jackie and I decided to walk to the beach, in Rhode Island, to see the sunrise. It was a 7 mile walk. This is a story I NEED to write as an essay. It’s an entire novel, what happened on that damn walk. It was the longest walk ever, and when we reached the beach – on that cold night – it was still HOURS before sunrise.

— We were the first to come upon a drunk driving accident once, on a lonely country road, at midnight. We saw a car on its side. It had obviously been coming from the opposite direction, came into our lane, went up on the field embankment, and flipped. It was freaky to be the first ones there. We clearly heard someone moaning in the car. Jackie went running up to one of the dark houses … and banged on the door, shouting for them to call for an ambulance. Within minutes, the entire fire department, police department, and EMT staff came screaming out of the country dark.

Jackie and I ended up standing up on a nearby grassy knoll, watching the entire thing. There was a wasted fat gentleman standing up in the car – which was on its side. So he was standing, with his feet on the passenger window, banging against the driver-window which was now above his head. His belly was protruding and hard – a serious beer gut. He looked like he was trapped in a fish tank. He could have not only fucking killed someone, but he could have killed US. If we had come around that corner 15 seconds earlier, he would have smashed right into us. So I have no sympathy for him. He’s lucky he’s alive. Another car came along, and decided to stop and watch – because the whole road was blocked off. Two really cute and friendly college guys stood and watched, and ended up joining Jackie and me on the grassy knoll. MUCH flirting then occurred. We were shamelessly flirting at the scene of a drunken car accident. Jackie and I roared about this later. The EMTs finally got the guy out of the car – and he put up a struggle – A policeman scolded him, saying, “You need to do what we say, sir.” And fat-drunk man uttered these now-mythic words – “I hear ya, trooper!” He said it in a jolly tone, a cooperative tone, a buddy-buddy tone. Also, let’s add on the Rhode Island accent. “I heah yah, troopah!” To this day, Jackie and I still use “I heah ya, troopah” in normal everyday conversation. “I mean, I’m just really upset right now … do you hear what I’m saying?” “I heah yah, troopah.”

— We got to have an enormous stage fight that opened the show of Edwin Drood. I actually got to flip Jackie over a ledge, and she plummeted down through the air. (A mattress was placed at the bottom – out of sight of the audience – for her to land). We rolled down stairs together. We stamped on each other’s feet. We shouted obscenities – in thick Cockney accents. We chased each other up and down the aisles. We pulled each other’s wigs. It is the most fun I’ve ever had on stage. And the ending was always the best. When I just grabbed onto her (in a highly rehearsed way, of course) and flipped her over the ledge. Also, we were dressed up in mid-19th century Music Hall get-ups – with huge feathers coming out of our heads, and flashy petticoats, and heaving bosoms, and sillks and taffetas – slutty-looking (those Music Hall girls were often prostitutes) and yet – with some of the charm of the era. Not showing EVERYthing. We were circus horses. So the two of us – in our Music Hall outfits, and outlandish makeup – beating the crap up out of each other. GLORIOUS!!!

— “Jeremy, wipe your wicked ass.” No way can I ever explain that quote – give context – how it came about. It is unexplainable. But I am STILL laughing about it. It needs to be said in a nasal priggish voice, vaguely British: “Jeremy, wipe your wicked ass.” The words “wicked ass” must be RELISHED, too – give them more emphasis than the other words. You judge the ass as being “wicked” – yet you also find the “wicked”-ness of the ass strangely titillating.

— “Oo say drak.”

— Morning after a wine-drenched debauched night in college. Jackie, Brooke and I lay in my bed. Aching with our hangovers, not talking, We were HURTING. Jackie slowly opened her eyes, perceived her condition for a silent moment, and then stated, flatly, “You could tap my liver and feed communion to a small Catholic church.”

Great friend. One of my best friends in the world.

I love you, Jackie!!! Happy birthday!