Friend Week: The Entertaining Erin

Last day of Friend Week, and I've got facial tics about it!

This whole ordeal was supposed to be much simpler than it turned out to be. Because now I am realizing that I haven't told you about many of my other friends (for example, the ones that I actually see on a regular basis.) So I'm just going to have to do mini friend bios when they come up. You already know that Maggie can get into some fisticuffs. And you know that Carla is preggo and thought I was Jewish for an entire year. And if you want to know more about all the lovely people I surround myself with, well, I suppose you'll just have to keep reading about my shenanigans.

Because now it's time to put on a Russian Spy coat, hold my hand, and get funky. IT'S ERIN DAY!!


Here is Erin in my old apartment, cooking breakfast in an Erin kind of way: red suede heels, vintage coat, wine glass. That's Erin for you: an anomaly that can't really be explained in only a few paragraphs. But I'll try.

Erin and I met through Laura our freshman year of college. We didn't really become besties, though, until Senior year, when we became gym buddies. We kicked some serious gym ass, I'm telling you. Or rather, Erin seriously kicked my gym ass. She is great at tricking you into doing five more crunches. Damn you, Erin. And God bless you.

Erin (and Laura) also introduced me to the world of red wine. It was a scary road to travel at first, but somehow I came through it. It was an easening, filled also with brie and manchego and girl talk that somehow became much more personal, 2 bottles in.

Erin has style, and so much so that I will never be able to keep up with her. Classy brands I've never heard of roll off her tongue like butter. Erin is the girl who, on her visit this summer, brought 4 dresses for two nights of celebration. And one of those nights she wore a bridesmaid dress. But, you know. Options. But the great part about Erin is that she isn't some exclusive, snobby, heiress-type. She has more important things to do: like be an intelligent, professional woman who will cook you enchiladas, call someone a douchebag, and then dance the night away in 4-inch heels.

I'm not sure that there is any way to truly describe Erin. So instead, I will give you my list of Erin Quotes from the past year, which I keep lovingly in my phone:

(After a gust of wind nearly blew a vendor cart onto us) "That was like, falafel in yo' face!!"

"Weddings are meant to be hookups." (Said to a future bride and groom)

"I have a lot of clothes. It's an issue. But all I want are babies and a career." (Erin does not remember saying this, and insists that those are not ACTUALLY the two things she wants. We'll see.)

"So my uncle couldn't find a good burger and he was like, 'Fuck it,' and bought an organic farm."

(Pouring beer) "Carmen! Tip your glass like a lady."

"I always think balls are like the scales of justice. 'Yes or no? Let's ask your balls.'" (I don't even know about this one.)


I doubt that cleared the air at all. But suffice it to say, Erin makes me laugh. And she makes me feel classier and smarter and more confident, just by being near her. She always has fun ideas up her sleeve, and she is one heck of a hostess.

It is very sad that she lives in New York City and therefore far from me. But we have new plans to move to San Fransisco some day. And perhaps then we will again drink wine, eat cheese, and make ball jokes until the wee hours of the morning.