we’ve had a request…

and that request is that I talk about someone other than myself for once. And the person I am to talk about is John Rosenberg.

I met John Rosenberg in August of 2001 when I moved into apartment B21 in Rochdale Village. I was sitting on the stairs drinking a 211 (my favorite malt liquor at the time). We exchanged a few words and the next day I started my new job at the USCA where he also worked.

Neighbors and coworkers, we were instant companions. John has this amazing ability to seek out the juiciest parts of a story. He’s also incredibly good at setting me up with his friends*. One time I had a crush on this one friend of his that turned out to be gay. That didn’t work out, obvs.

We’ve worked together almost ever since. And lived close to each other randomly on multiple occassions.

He gives good advice and he’s always supportive. He knows just the buttons to push to make me cry at lunch. And that happens embarassingly often.

He started the Jennifer Heller Daily Report, which I still enjoy looking back on. I enjoy teasing him about his weight gain and his eating habits. It’s pretty much a match made in heaven.

His annual birthday party is always one of the most drunken nights of my year. Can’t complain about that.

One time we made out in the parking lot of the Hotsy Totsy while my boyfriend at the time was playing pool. That was pretty awesome.

We used to go to lunch at Le Petite Cheval all the time. If I was lucky, he would dump glasses of water in my lap.

One day I spit in his face. Since then, we’ve taken to spitting at each other.

We’re still playing this game where we get to knock food out of each other’s hands. I have two turns left. He better watch out.

So thank you, John Rosenberg. Thanks for the years, and making sure I get some play thrown my way every now and again. Thanks most recently for talking me out of my insanity, even if it just made me even more insane. But that was my fault, not his. I should have known better.

God, I hope I learned my lesson.

This blog entry is dedicated to my great friend, and true companion, John Rosenberg.

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*I definitely intend never to let him set me up again, though, FYI.

Questions? Comment? Cigars? Cigarettes?

0 thoughts on “we’ve had a request…

  1. WHERE’S THE BLOG POST ABOUT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE??? You met me at almost exactly the same time, you realize. Like, a day later or something. Hmph.

  2. WHERE’S THE BLOG POST ABOUT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE??? You met me at almost exactly the same time, you realize. Like, a day later or something. Hmph.

  3. OMG, I totally TOTALLY mention you all the time. John’s point was that I NEVER mention him. Which is totes true. One time I skirted around it, talking about how I spit in his face. But I referred to him as the devil, because right then, he really seemed like the devil to me. That’s kinda the nature of our relationship. He’s devilish and mean, but loving and supportive. So strange.

  4. OMG, I totally TOTALLY mention you all the time. John’s point was that I NEVER mention him. Which is totes true. One time I skirted around it, talking about how I spit in his face. But I referred to him as the devil, because right then, he really seemed like the devil to me. That’s kinda the nature of our relationship. He’s devilish and mean, but loving and supportive. So strange.

  5. Oh, and I totes forgot to mention how GOOD JOHN IS AT HIS JOB! I mean, jesus, it’s insane. I have trouble sitting so close to him cause I’m so impressed all the time.

  6. Oh, and I totes forgot to mention how GOOD JOHN IS AT HIS JOB! I mean, jesus, it’s insane. I have trouble sitting so close to him cause I’m so impressed all the time.

  7. it was not too very long ago that i was sort of John’s assistant. i don’t say sort-of to characterize our working relationship, but because i was usually asleep somewhere that wasn’t always my desk during my scheduled shifts.

    anyway, and this is just to chime in on John being The Man or whatever, but one time i had to call this one guy to ask why he was taking his sweet time giving us money, and apropos of nothing the guy was all, like: “I already filled out the paperwork you stupid fucking asshole!”

    there was some confusion and things to be sorted out, but in the end it turned out that the guy i called mistook me for John. apparently the two of them didn’t get along. Pat asked John for an explanation. “I don’t give a fuck if he’s in a wheelchair, that guy’s a fucking asshole,” is what John said.

    that was one of the things i loved about my sort-of job; if i happened to be there and i answered the phone or John was out for whatever reason, people were visibly relieved to be dealing with me and not him. it made me feel good about my life choices.

    oh, and John: you & your girl ever coming over for dinner? i’m thinking mexican, probably. also i’m pretty sure i left a brown sweater at CO last time i was there. if you’ve seen it and it hasn’t been thrown away or stolen, and this dinner thing pans out, could you bring that with you? it would be just fucking awesome if all that happened.

    and if you know someting would be awesome if it happened, that’s practically the same as it actually being awesome, which probably means you could skip the whole thing and cut right to remembering it as such. i mean, i could never swing it–most people would, in fact, at least have to show up and go through the motions and all that–but then most people aren’t quite John Rosenberg, are they?

    you’re stil an asshole for sinking the Titanic, though.

  8. it was not too very long ago that i was sort of John’s assistant. i don’t say sort-of to characterize our working relationship, but because i was usually asleep somewhere that wasn’t always my desk during my scheduled shifts.

    anyway, and this is just to chime in on John being The Man or whatever, but one time i had to call this one guy to ask why he was taking his sweet time giving us money, and apropos of nothing the guy was all, like: “I already filled out the paperwork you stupid fucking asshole!”

    there was some confusion and things to be sorted out, but in the end it turned out that the guy i called mistook me for John. apparently the two of them didn’t get along. Pat asked John for an explanation. “I don’t give a fuck if he’s in a wheelchair, that guy’s a fucking asshole,” is what John said.

    that was one of the things i loved about my sort-of job; if i happened to be there and i answered the phone or John was out for whatever reason, people were visibly relieved to be dealing with me and not him. it made me feel good about my life choices.

    oh, and John: you & your girl ever coming over for dinner? i’m thinking mexican, probably. also i’m pretty sure i left a brown sweater at CO last time i was there. if you’ve seen it and it hasn’t been thrown away or stolen, and this dinner thing pans out, could you bring that with you? it would be just fucking awesome if all that happened.

    and if you know someting would be awesome if it happened, that’s practically the same as it actually being awesome, which probably means you could skip the whole thing and cut right to remembering it as such. i mean, i could never swing it–most people would, in fact, at least have to show up and go through the motions and all that–but then most people aren’t quite John Rosenberg, are they?

    you’re stil an asshole for sinking the Titanic, though.

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