Stephanie Georgopulos

All this time, you’ve been getting by on quick fixes – the one night stands and the spliffs. And they’re good for temporary relief but don’t you want the real thing, now? The thing that lasts for hours, the thing that lasts for years.

Hey Jamie! It was so good to see you – let’s make it more of a thing. Anyway, call me back when you get this message. I was just talking to Mike and our conversation made me realize that I totally spaced on deleting a bunch of files off of the computer. Nothing too crazy… not that you’d ever judge me! It’s just… well, steer clear of opening Photobooth.

It’s a little depressing; that this thing you counted on to add significance to your life becomes one more stamp in your sexual history passport. Because one day you’ll meet someone who makes time stop and you’ll think maybe they would’ve been worth waiting for, you’ll want to give them one of your firsts. You haven’t completely run out of firsts yet, after all.

I dig the haunted houses and how excited kids get; I dig their little costumes and the big ass bags of assorted candy for sale at CVS. The fake cobweb stuff is okay. The horror movie marathons are much welcome. In theory, I should love Halloween, but I can’t.

If you’re feeling cheeky, use your illness-based tweet as an opportunity to humblebrag. “can’t hold anything down. gonna lose 20 pounds.” Prepare for everyone to freak out over your hot new diet. Like it or not, you’re a trendsetter now…

James – you’re going to get coffee? Can you pick me up a… grande venti pumpkin – write this down – grande venti pumpkin mocha latte with whip cream and – you know what, make sure there’s not too much whip cream? Like, actually? Get me two of these – grande venti pumpkin mocha latte with whip cream and a caramel swirl and like, a cherry if they have them? Tell them not to be cheap with the cherries.

Almost every party I attended at fourteen featured camping tents and a cornucopia of fruit-inspired alcohol. Everyone would just raid their parent’s liquor cabinets and show up with like, Bacardi O or Limon or any member of the Bacardi family, really, our options were pretty limited back then.

I lay face-down, trying to be calm. “Just relax,” he whispered. I have trouble doing that, relaxing, especially when someone is asking me to do so, but I tried. It’s a little easier because I’d just had some champagne in the locker room.

2000-2004. My high school years. They also coincided with the release of some of the most embarrassing awesome!! rock music of my lifetime.

Your encouraging words (“Can I get a smile?”) and concern (“Cheer up! It’ll be okay!”) have not fallen on deaf ears. You saw the malaise posted up on my grill and you reacted the way any Good Samaritan would and for that, I’d like to thank you.

You rang your mother to tell her the good news, and now she’s going to ask about it during your next phone call, which is today, because it’s her birthday, and you’re going to have to say, “What are you talking about, mom? What opportunity to [chase my dreams/ break my dry spell]? I don’t… oh. That. Yeah… not happening.”

Emotitis can be observed when, for inexplicable reasons, a drinker decides that friends and good times be damned! They’re going to think about the loser who never texted them back, their dead-end career, and their (late) cat Moisha, who passed five years ago.