First birthday after I moved to New York. I like this picture because I have skinny arms. I used to run when I lived in Michigan, which wasn't long before that, that's why they were skinny. I had this summer temp boyfriend. We were both moving at the end of the summer, me to New York, him to Boston or some shit. I can't remember. Anyway, his name was Ray and he was 6 foot 7 and gorgeous and weighed about a buck twelve. We never ran together because I hate running with people. All group sports really. And most intellectual stuff. I pretty much hate groups. Ray and I had this frat boy thing we did every morning where we'd call each other and say "You going, dude?" meaning: Were we planning on going outside and running 3 miles in 99 degree weather and wind up like a dumb fuck in the emergency room? The answer always had to be yes. You couldn't say no. That meant you were a pussy. Then we'd call each other when we got home. We only F'd one time and it was after eating fish-n-chips. Not advised. He is married now and has a kid. I think he sells office paper or something. Another reason why I like this picture is because the bartender in the back with the black hair is in it. I always wanted to rail her. Now I have a picture of her without it being all creepy, like the time I saw her at Beacon's Closet. The changing rooms there have curtains that don't really close all the way and I lingered around the rack near them after she went in, hoping to catch a glimpse. I saw a tiny sliver of pink panty and instantly felt like a sex offender and like I wanted to write her a letter and apologize.