in high school, we'd become violet beauregardes via steak n shake and cookie in a bowl. we'd discuss boy bands and boys from glenbrook north and lululemon yoga pants (and occasionally we'd actually do yoga in them). we'd drive to each other's houses, which were about half a block away from each other, and we would just make wonderful fools out of ourselves.
this weekend, we became violet beauregardes with shake shack concretes, birthday cake macarons, food truck falafel, pork buns, and a 4am tipsy/kind of bad shakshuka. we played the lollipop tree game and watched eggboy sing about shackleton at a loft in gowanus. we got caught in the rain. we curled hair. and we walked five thousand million miles, with stops at uniqlo and american apparel. i was myself, no schmoozing or cheese-y catching up necessary, just good, old-fashioned, just-like-the-old-days, make-me-really-miss-the-suburbs fun. (but better, because this time there were salty pimps.)