Of all the places I don't want to go on vacation

One minute she's writing "for anal beads" on my check, the next she's announcing a move in July. And to where? Florida. I hate Florida. Julie's lucky she's my best friend and knows I'll fly out to see her whenever I can scrounge up a buck fifty for the plane ride down. But still, Florida? Why not Chicago? I've never been to Chicago.

Anyway, in honor of my upcoming desertment, a story.

Jeff was a guy (drug dealer) Julie and I hung out (did drugs) with in high school. I hung (made) out with him a little more frequently than Julie did, but the two of us would often go over to his house together all the time to (score free pot) watch movies and stuff.

One day, as we left Jeff's house…

Julie: Do you really like him?
Me: He's okay.
Julie: Well, are you ever going to get serious about him, or anything?
Me: Like, be his girlfriend? No.
Julie: Well, can I have him then?

For the next four hours, I was outraged. Like, how could Julie just ask to have the guy I was hanging out with? The nerve! Then I realized that I didn't really like him all that much, and we'd still get free drugs if Julie had him. So I gave her the go-ahead.

The next day, Jeff and his two hot friends met Mrs. F, Julie and I at Lollapalooza II. Mrs. F got one hot friend and I got the other. Julie got Jeff. And we all got a lot of free drugs for the next eight months, after which time Julie and I had this conversation…

Julie: How could you have let me go out with him? Did you know he was such a jerk?
Me: I don't know. I thought 'drug dealer' might have been a red flag.