I suck at this.

11.12 - 18/365 (Mike): We fought like an old married couple over The Great Gatsby. I think you called me a whore when we discussed the Scarlet Letter, fly boy.

11.13 - 19/365 (Ashley): Rhodes blew balls, but you did not. I could not have asked for a better roommate for that terrible experience. Seeing you in Hartford was great.

11.14 - 20/365 (Antoinette): When they brought you home from the hospital, we thought your name was Anjeanette. I was not allowed to hold you until much, much later.

11.15 - 21/365 (Joe): You're the kind of lawyer that gives attorneys a bad name. That said, underneath everything, you're probably a good guy. I hope, for your kids sake.

11.16 - 22/365 (Rose): It took me a really long time to understand you, and now that I might, you're gone. But not too far. Our states touch! Come visit!

11.18

11.19

11.20

11.21

11.22

11.23

11.24

11.25

11.26

11.27

17/365 (Chris H.)

Remember when you would call me Blythe Algar? That was a pretty good one. And remember when you were trying to smoke weed like Bob Dole?

16/365 (unknown)

We sat next to each other on the ferry to Martha's Vineyard last summer. We exchanged numbers, but then I lost my cell and you forever.

15/365 (Brice)

Why do you have to be a Republican actually working for the RNC in DC? We could've been such friends. You're so smart, but so dumb.

14/365 (Josh)

Oh, Kramer-like neighbor in New York. My last night there, you pulled me into a darkened room and told me to dump the BF ASAP.

13/365 (Dan)

You were so terribly sweet and so terribly boring except for that time that we fucked all night to Astral Weeks. I do still remember that.

12/365 (Lauren)

You were my third grade idol. I even wanted your thyroid problem. I'll bet you're married with a kid and an SUV living in Brookhaven now.

Crap and a Half

I'm terrible at this. I have some posts that I did, but saved as drafts and forgot to post. Also, my other terribly sucky blog is sucking the life out of me. Apologies.

11/365 (Climber Kevin)

I can't believe that you finally graduated. You slept on our couch and made me breakfast when I was hungover. I hope you dumped that girl.

10/365 (Kevin)

I can't believe I made out with you! While my boyfriend was just upstairs! Damn you fraternities! It was because you wanted to be a teacher.

9/365 (Chris G.)

In second grade, you dressed up as a jailbird for Halloween. I thought I was in love. Especially after you gave me a train pencil sharpener.

8/365 (Don)

You paint six foot fish and smell of wax and turpentine. You were my makeshift babysitter teaching me about Carmelite nuns over microwave popcorn and Oprah.

7/365 (Mrs. Warren - First Grade Teacher)

She dressed up Governor George Nigh for Halloween in first grade. In a strange turn of events, her husband served as our family photographer a year later.

6/365 (Kristin)

Today is your 26th birthday. I didn't call because I lost your number. And we lost each other somewhere over Illinois and Iowa, papers and boyfriends.

5/365 (Grace)

110% friends 30% of the time. You are frightening brains and unforgiving beauty, but mostly brawn (except when it comes ketchup, which you think is spicy).

4/365 (Isaiah)

Behind your Ramones t-shirt, black and white checked slip ons and worn skinny jeans, you're still a kid that needs to do his math homework.

3/365 (Venita)

You taught me sign language, to read music, to sing, to play violin, to be kind. I hated church, but happily suffered through for you.

2/365 (Ryan)

I think I loved you when I was supposed to be loving my boyfriend. I hated that he met you first. We could have been great.

Sometimes, I am bad at paying attention.

So, I didn't read the directions carefully and forgot to choose how many words I will be using per post. I'm 26, so... 26? Will proceed at 26x365 from this point on.

1/365 (Linda)

You smelled like crayons and carried wallpaper scraps for impromptu art projects. Your ropelike braid provided stability during piggy backs through the underbrush. You taught me to press leaves, play 45s and ask questions of big people. I still think of you some Thursday nights.

x365

d is doing this thing called x365. I decided I would try it too.