You know that icebreaker, 2 truths and a lie? You tell 2 true things about yourself and make up one lie. Well, during my sophomore year of college and a little into my junior year, my cute lil' sis (who adores me greatly) used to use the prompt, "My sister works at NYPD."
It was the best truth ever. Why? Most of her friends knew that I went to college in Ann Arbor. Instead of I Heart NY tees, I sent home shorts with "Go Blue" on the butt (c'mon, at that time, it was the "in" fashion statement for 'tweens like my sister...). But, I did work at
NYPD. As in, I worked as a pizza server at the New York Pizza Depot, only the best pizza in the 481-- zip codes. I served
chipatis. (Yea, i didn't understand until I moved to Ann Arbor either...). I diligently served to the drunken crowd that would come over after
"Skeepers" closed on Thursday nights (if you were in a fraternity or sorority, scorekeepers was the place to be on Thursdays. Lucky for me, NYPD was conveniently located pretty much across the street from the party). Heck, I even got my picture on the front page of the
Michigan Daily slinging pizza (the shot was taken at 3:30 am the night before - i guess the paper figured out it needed a good front page picture right before print. Lucky for them, NYPD was conveniently located pretty much across the street from the newspaper building).
I even had a few (specifically, f-o-u-r) NYPD tee shirts (the mandatory uniform) that were pretty awesome. I lost them along the way a few years ago.
Anyway, when filling out the NJ bar application (which is already late, btw), I needed to figure out exactly when I worked at NYPD. I have these faint memories but I truly had no idea. I called my mom. She also had no idea. My non-existent tax return had no idea. NYPD, which is the type of fancy establishment where the cooks make pizza while smoking cigarettes hands-free (i.e. hanging freely from the side of their lip, building piles of ash...), probably has no idea.
One of my best friends from college is getting married come November and she called me today about the wedding shower (that I still have to book my ticket for) that's in three weeks. I worked at NYPD when I lived with her... She and my other roommates in that small box of a room hated the pizza grease smell of my clothes. She must remember when the fumes started...
"OMG, Danielle, do you know when I started working at NYPD?"
"I think maybe fall semester?"
Okay. Fall semester. That was something to go on.
So, I called my ex-boyfriend from the time. He totally had to remember. I dated him from my freshman year to the middle of my junior year of college. He was a senior when I was a freshman. Poster-child for the perfect Jewish boyfriend. He was super smart. Funny. He kept kosher (until the summer of 2001, thanks to me! A turkey and cheese hoagie from WaWa on the roof of my parent's shore house). He was also a virgin...until one night after work at NYPD. At the very least, he had to have *that* date written in a diary somewhere.
I called him.
"I think it was November or December."
"So, not October? I know it's at least fall semester."
"It was definitely in the fall. Maybe November or October."
"I thought you said December."
"I think maybe October. Oh, did I tell you that my wife (!) wears your NYPD shirt all the time?"
"That's where it went."
Great!! That worked out perfectly. I think from now on I have to document my whole life so I know dates and times (yes, thank you blogs for giving me approximate dates of when I moved to and fro Michigan in the summer of 2004 and when I started working at the City of Pittsburgh).
I'll start with today. I had my exit interview for my stafford loans. Yuck. I am officially in tens (hundreds?) of thousands of dollars of debt as of June 1, 2006.
Did I mention that its also costing me around $4,000 to actually take the NJ and PA bars & the prep class?
Anxiety? None.
Law degree? Totally worth it.
Sarcasm? Intended.
Now Listening to:
The Sugarcubes "Life's Too Good"
