You know the cops finally busted Madame Marie

Feeling guilty over depressing everyone with the petty crap going on in my world, I have determined that it is time to brighten up the room with stories of Lola in her prime. Pre kids, pre husband, pre just about everything that makes Lola the Lola you all know and tolerate.

Imagine if you will, a February weekend...much like any other February weekend in the Hudson Valley. Cold, miserable and absolutely nothing to do. Lola, (who was getting married in 4 months) with her friends Cindy and Karen were looking for something to do. Anything at all. Nothing was working. Nothing for three 21 year old girls with too much money and too much time on their hands. (cue music do do do do...do do do do)

We pick up our story with Lola (that's me) deciding that it would be a great idea to drive two hours to see my childhood friend Cheri. Cheri and I have been friends since we were eight. You know the movie Beaches? That's us, without the smoking and the Music career or the money. Maybe, just maybe, Cheri would have some idea of some exciting thing we could do. So Cindy and Karen & I hopped into my 1980 Red Chevy Monza hatchback coupe, and drove to the swamps of Jersey .

When we arrived at Cheri's house, to our dismay she had no ideas either of what we could possibly do to get out of our winter doldrums. Suddenly, and I really don't remember whose idea it was, we decided a little impromptu bachelorette party was in the cards. We summonned Anne, and off we headed to Asbury Park, NJ. Home of the Stone Pony and Bruce Springsteen.

Now before he got all liberal and Al Gore supporting, Bruce was one hot tamale. Not as hot as the tamale I have now (pun intended) but I think if he had just asked me, I would have abandoned my life and run away with him. But who am I kidding, he'd never go for a plain girl like me, oh...wait, he did...

Anyway, I digress.

The five of us drove another 45 minutes from Cheri's apartment to the Stone Pony and began our little party. We were singing, and dancing and generally having a good time...and then it happened...HE walked in the door.

Now Cindy, who was always a little, ditzy, is standing at the bar, ordering the next round. HE is standing next to her, ordering his first drink, and she is oblivious.

We spend the rest of the night staring...and staring...and staring, but not willing to say hello like every other patron in the place. We stared until our eyes fell out of our heads and rolled across the floor.

Closing time came around, and we piled out of the place. My car was parked on the street in front of The Pony, and parked behind me...in all its glory was a 1983 Black Corvette. HIS corvette. Behind MY car. If I told you the the thought of hitting his car as a way to meet him didn't cross my mind, I'd be lying. And you all know about me and lying. We sat there...5 of us in a car the smaller than a test track vehicle. And eventually drove away. Realizing the fantasy of what could have been would always be better than the reality of what was.