February 18, 2004

Perkins

It is our cafe, where we are starving artists and tortured youths. It is our 50’s diner, where we crowd, six girls to a booth, and giggle as the quarterback of the football team struts in. It is our graveyard, where we bury high school memories and mourn lost friends (lost not to death, but to life). It is our sketchpad, our journal, for weekend plans and life goals. And it is our comforting therapist, where we may speak freely, without fear, and feel the comforting hand of a friend on our shoulder. It is our home away from home, our surrogate parent, and the only place we would ever dream of going for pie.

I love it.

food master

February 19, 2004

Nicely done! Keep it up!

french silk = the bomb. you’re such a good writer. golly. you have one year to get published or i’m going to do something bad… really bad… yeah. so watch it. missy. love, corey =)

I believe those are the reasons the tradition of going to Perkins at random morning hours, keeps getting passed down through each generation of Drama geeks..kind of cool, in a way. RYN:so very true ha ha

God do I miss you Jen. Come up. I will come down. Need a Jen hug. Need to give you an Ani hug. Love, the aforementioned other hugging party