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FRESH 
YARN PRESENTS: 
            A 
              Memo I Wish I'd Received 
              By 
              Jackie Cohen 
               
             
             TO: 
              Jackie Cohen 
              FROM: Your Neighbor, Justin 
              DATE: December 24, 2004 
              RE: Your Sanity 
               
              If you see that my light is on tonight DO NOT knock on my door. 
              Even though it is Christmas Eve and you have just returned home 
              from a horrendous party for Jewish singles that your friend dragged 
              you to, and all you're looking for is someone to talk to, DO NOT 
              choose to talk to me. Call a friend instead. You may be aware that 
              like you, I too am Jewish and don't have anything to do tonight, 
              and therefore am home watching It's a Wonderful Life alone. 
              Still, this is no reason to knock on my door. 
               
              If you knock on my door, I will be charming. I admit, I will be 
              pleasantly surprised that my neighbor across the hall is bold enough 
              to offer me a late night snack when really all we've had up to that 
              point is polite neighborly banter about our jobs and good neighborhood 
              hardware stores.  
               
              DO NOT be wooed by the fact that I know how to make a labor-intensive 
              Caipirinha with Cachaca, of which I happen to have six bottles that 
              I brought back from Brazil that time I led a month-long expedition 
              there. Furthermore, DO NOT be impressed that I led a month-long 
              expedition in Brazil. I am not that cool. If you happened to accept 
              a Caipirinha and find it delicious, DO NOT accept another one. Even 
              if we get along really well and I trick you into thinking I have 
              a sense of humor, it's only because you find most people funny when 
              you're drunk. I am not funny. I'm actually not all that smart.  
               
              When I knock on your door the next day, DO NOT get excited. I will 
              be nice to you, but that's only because I want everyone to like 
              me. And if we happen to spend the entire week after Christmas together, 
              running errands, meeting each other's friends, finishing off bottle 
              after bottle of Cachaca, DO NOT think that I am going to be your 
              boyfriend. If, at the end of the week, I invite you to my brother's 
              for New Year's Eve dinner as my date, DO NOT take that as a sign 
              that we are dating. 
               
              Even though I may call you ten times a day, PLEASE NOTE that I will 
              not call you on Valentine's Day. I will be no more busy on that 
              day than I am on any other day. After a few days, when you have 
              cooled off from being mad, accept NEITHER my apology NOR my invitation 
              to dinner. And when we go out to dinner and I offer to pay, please 
              notice the passive aggressive manner in which I make you feel guilty 
              when I reach for my wallet.  
               
              Even though it is a very couple-y thing to do to go to the gym in 
              the morning together, DO NOT think that we are a couple. Other things 
              that do not mean that two people are a couple include: getting breakfast 
              together every day before work, kissing goodbye when we go our separate 
              ways, waking up at 9 on a Saturday to watch you run a race, meeting 
              your parents, allowing your parents to take me out to lunch, telling 
              you how much I like you, holding hands when walking down the street, 
              sex. 
               
              Your friends who tell you that I'm not very interesting are right. 
              Your friends who tell you that I seem like a nice guy are also right. 
              But please consult a dictionary for the definition of "seem." 
              Your friends who tell you that you should stop spending so much 
              time with me are so very right. 
               
              And when I tell you that I have to go out to dinner with a friend 
              of my mom's daughter who's visiting for a week from Brazil, it would 
              be advisable to think something of it. And when I tell you that 
              she's a model, don't think that just because my hair is beginning 
              to gray, I'm short, and have a large gut that she won't be interested 
              and won't be a threat to you.  
               
              Avoid spending time with me if, in the future, you DO NOT want to 
              associate the following things with me: the café on 18th 
              street, the framed photograph I took of the view out your window 
              that's now on your wall, the Nike Dunks that I convinced you to 
              buy, your favorite show The Office, anytime someone quotes 
              or mentions The Office, anytime you are in an office, the 
              nation of Brazil, your apartment. 
               
              And when I tell you that I booked a trip to Brazil, please be sure 
              to end it with me right there. In case you fail to do so then, another 
              good time to do so would be after I show you the Tiffany's heart 
              necklace that I'm taking to Brazil, which is not just a house gift. 
              When I return from Brazil three weeks later, DO NOT forget how nice 
              it was not to have me around. In case you do forget, I will be sure 
              to remind you with my announcement that the model from Brazil is 
              going to be visiting me for a few weeks. 
               
              And a few days into her visit, when you realize that there's nothing 
              you can do about it, that it's just the three of us in the only 
              two apartments on the third floor of our three-floor walk-up, DO 
              NOT open your door anymore when you hear me walking up. Turn your 
              TV up loud. Force yourself to stay out later than usual. Spend a 
              long time shopping at the all-night deli, if necessary. Invite guy 
              friends over for dinner who have loud voices. Or, in a pinch, order 
              food and make sure the delivery guy talks loudly. Because when those 
              few days turn into a few weeks, and those few weeks turn into a 
              few months, and those few months turn into live-in model girlfriend, 
              you can't say you didn't get the memo. 
            
             
             
              
            
             
             
            
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