No more bitchsquealing.

Here's something I've always liked, "Esky" from the August 1999 issue of Esquire. Enjoy:

Judie, for the thousand kisses. Anna, who always had cookies and a hug. Linda, who used to dance all crazy, whipping me around until I couldn't stop laughing.

Mary, for holding off on the hysterectomy.

Carol, for cooking with nothing but butter and meat. Christine, because every sandwich she makes will always taste better than one I make myself. Josephine, for still baking me the hamburger-Tater-Tots-cream-of-mushroom-soup thing, even though I am forty years old. Doris, who hass a little bowl by the front door that is always full of Peppermint Patties. Jenny, who taught me that food may not be love, but it can come awfully close.

Jyl, for the terry-cloth shorts.

Cookie, who taught me how to worm a hook. Jody, who showed me the trick with the Land O Lakes box. Janice, who let me win at eight ball. Jeanine, who could go shot for shot when we broke out the Yukon Jack.

Maria Cantaloupes, we called her, sophomore year.

Erika, who was as curious as I was. Samantha, whose father never came downstairs. Kristen, whose uncle bought us beer. Sue, because somehow she was sixteen, too. Sheryl, who was twenty-two when I was eighteen. Jan, for the cemetery next to the dorm. Steph, for fifteen minutes in a closet twenty years ago.

Jane, for those eyes, that ass.

Karen, who kept the letters.

Kathy, who sings along to the radio and manages to annoy everyone except me. Christine, because she can tell the difference between G-sharp and B-flat on the piano from two rooms away.

Miriam, because she hated having to break my heart twice.

Laura, because she is beautiful and has no idea. Nicole, who honestly thinks she has small breasts. Doreen, who ate nothng but chocolate cake and looked great. Ashley, because she has incredibly good posture.

The beautiful woman on the filthy subway fixing her lipstick in the blackened window.

Beth, who has the voice of an angel and knows when to use it. Lesley, for doing that little dance. Stacy, because her eyes change color every day.

Boomer, the best mechanic in Massachusetts.

Sarah, my dear, dear friend. Brenda, who said exactly the right thing at the right time. Molly, who knows that life is so much better without a boyfriend than with one. Carla, for refusing to get a nose job. Caitlin, who said nice things behind my back. Jenny, who, even though I knew her really, really well, I never knew went to Harvard.

Louise, for her brutal honesty. Amy, for her silence.

Leslie, for standing by her man, even though it wasn't me. Cathy, for that one last time before she got married.

Lisa, who is so cool.

Eleanor, for full-body goodnight kisses. Diane, for long legs and short skirts and black stockings with a thin line running up the back. Leigh, for wearing that skirt whenever I ask. Gillian, for piercing her tongue.

Stefanie, for flushing when she was told to plunge.

Marcia, for letting me sleep in on weekends. Jessica, for insisting on vacations. Valerie, who likes to argue but never gets mad. Alison, because she always calls me by my full name. Janis, because she is smarter than me and sometimes pretends not to be.

Gobby, who was seventy-five and wore an Easter-egg-purple suede coat.

Sarah, who, when I came home at midnight to tell her about the latest cruel machinations of my famous boss at my fabulous job, which paid for our car and food and the roof over the heads of our three children, said without hesitation, "Tell him to fuck off."

Becky, for saving my life by giving me one.

Annie, because she loved me back.