Her name was lola.

So, funny story.

Well, it is to me and I thought I would share.

My all time favorite summer in college was the summer I lived on Magnolia Street with one of my sorority sister and her cousin. It was a classic story of the country mouse (her) and the city mouse (me). She taught me how to balance while trying to drunkenly pee outside and all the words to The Devil went down to Georgia and I taught her how to put eyeliner on- j/k. I don’t know what I taught her. Anyway, I’d give anything to go back to that summer.

Another one of her cousins who lived in Baton Rouge would visit a lot. His music selection is to die for. It’s amazing but at the time I couldn’t appreciate it because all we were listening to was the music they played in the bars. So, part of our nightly tradition of drinking and playing board games (mostly Cranium and sometimes Trivial Pursuit if we were feeling like a marathon, but we’d never get through it. Everyone would get too drunk and no one knew the answers sober, much less drunk, so we’d get bored) we’d put on one of his CDs with the obscure music on it and usually he was the only one jamming because most of it we had never heard of. During one of the party playlists, Copa Cabana came on and in our drunken stupor, we found this quite amusing for some reason.

One weekend my sorority sister was out of town with a few of my other sisters and I was left to my own devices, which always included alcohol. This particular night, I wanted pancakes and it just so happened I would only eat pancakes if she made them (She makes them perfect- not doughy at all. I hate doughy pancakes and runny eggs. Nothing grosses me out more). I can’t cook and even if I tried, I didn’t want to burn down the house in the process. I was drunk and in need of sustenance, so I figured calling her at 3am to tell her to drive 4 hours and come make me pancakes was a good plan. Unfortunately, she was passed out already but another sister answered her phone and I told her to give her a message. Tell her "Her name was Lola". Of course, she didn’t get it but the next morning she passed it along and had no idea why it invoked hysterical laughter.

And that was it. To this day, when we get drunk (and think about it) we will text each other the lyrics. We never get passed "She would merengue and do the cha-cha" but that’s ok. It’s our thing. God, I miss her.

I just heard it on my ipod and texted her. I hope she doesn’t think I’m drunk at 8am, but then again there is no telling ;-P

I have a feeling I told yall this story already? Oh, well.