Two Julie stories

In my apartment, there are two Floridians currently taking up residence on my couch: Julie, my crazy best friend, and her Hot Irish Boyfriend. These are their stories.

Story #1

"Hey Jule, you know we're just going to the Parkside, right?"

Julie and Karl arrived back at my apartment, exhausted yet giddy after their shopping trip. I was tired from a productive, though draining, day at work. We decided to pop by The Parkside Lounge, my neighborhood dive bar, for a drink. Julie said she needed to "get changed" first. She walked into my bedroom and emerged in a sequined tube top and black pants. I gave her an odd look and walked into the bathroom, where her curling iron lay on the sink.

"Will there be hair curling before we go?" I asked. Julie assured me there would be just a little.

"Hey Jule, you do remember the Parkside, right? The bar with the pool table and the guys from the neighborhood? The one you've fallen down in on at least three occasions?"

Julie curled her hair. I put on jeans and a hoodie, and threw my hair into a ponytail.

Julie exited the bathroom as The Roommate and The Boyfriend of the Roommate were entering the apartment. Hellos were exchanged. The Roommate asked where we were going. Julie said the Parkside. The Roommate looked at her oddly, and then confessed that she had assumed something fancier was on the menu.

"Is Princess ready to go?" I asked. Princess was ready to go. "She's so high-maintenance," I said to the Hot Irish Boyfriend. He agreed. Unbeknownst to us, the Parkside was having its annual holiday party, which really just ended up being an intimate gathering of people who live in my building. When we found out there was a party, Julie was elated.

"Aha!" she said. "I am dressed for a party. You are not." I most definitely wasn't.

Story #2

Julie is a middle school math teacher, and on the day before Christmas vacation, she earned the honorable distinction of being the only teacher who made her classes do work. (We all know what kind of teacher that makes her. A mean one.) When she sent the empty-handed students to their lockers to retrieve their books, there was much grumbling. When they returned and she began her lesson, one girl could not let it go.

"Ms. [Julie's last name]! Why do you hate the baby Jesus?"

"Ms. [Julie last name]! Why are you such a scrooge?

And this one takes the cake.

"Ms. [Julie's last name]! You hate Christmas because you're not married, don't you?"

At the end of class, Julie passed out cards she had filled out and cookies she had baked. The students grudgingly admitted that she wasn't really a scrooge, but they still weren't happy about being forced to do work.