I still had another 16 months before I'd move to NYC, and I was drunk and trendy and obscenely thin, wearing the coolest Freewheelin' Sweet Marie jacket of all time, picking at vegetables and professing cross-country love to Scot via text message. No, I said.
Well, you can find a sublet there. For next summer. It's just the best!
So in May 2004, I jumped on the webbernet, like a surfer surfing real live waves, and I took a ride on the information superhighway, like driving a train on the tracks, and I put an ad on craigslist and I found, easily, Lindsay and her four month West Village sublet. I lived there 'til Krista moved out here in September.
So last week, when Lewis asked me if I knew about craigslist [it related to a story, I think, probably about legos], I was like, "Yeah, DUH! Like, I owe them my whole life."
Then I realized...fuck...I owe them my whole life!
Which made me feel like the biggest dork ever. I am, though, and I'm at peace with that.
Click on this to make it bigger (it's like The Chart, sort of, but without Alice being so cute in her little glasses):
