All Good Things Must Come To An End.

No, I'm not talking about Top Chef.

Brittany is gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Like the wind. Or maybe someone who couldn't pay her rent.

Not Brittany Spears, but the infamous Brittany, my upstairs-across neighbor. I heard a lot of racket earlier this evening going up and down the stairs, and I figured something was going on. My suspicions were confirmed when Ken came over and said, "Yep, it's true. Brittany is moving out."

So, in honor of Brittany and the many, many good times we had in the building, a little trip down memory lane. Alas, Brittany, we hardly knew ye. And we hardly knew the parade of boys that crossed your threshold. Although we probably knew them better than you did.

(Montage accompanied by the music of U2, "With or Without You")

• The time you got all drunk on your balcony and yelled down to me and Jenn, "Hey! I've got a party in my pants!"
• The many, many times you were outsmarted by your broom while sweeping your balcony and it flew out of your hands and off the balcony to the earth below.
• The time you borrowed milk from your new BFF, Jennifer, to cook for your "brother" when in reality we ALL know it was for your baby.
• The time Jennifer discovered you worked at Sonic and actually tipped you because she figured your baby still needed to be fed.
• The Burrito Fairy. We know it was you.
• The Sonic Fairy. Duh!
• The time your baby-daddy started banging on your door at 2am displaying his natural charm by screaming "Let me in, Bitch! I know you're in there!"
• During one of your many drunken parties everyone took it outside in the hall, and in your haste to get back into your apartment you walked into the wall.
• Your massive high heels in which you CLOMPED CLOMPED CLOMPED down the stairs.
• That time your baby-daddy told me and Jennifer about the time that his best friend shot him in the stomach.
• You yelling at your maybe-three-year-old son to hurry up and drag those plastic bags full of groceries up the stairs. And getting mad when he wasn't fast enough.
• The random articles of clothing left on the stairs.
• The stupid drunk boys jumping off the roof.
• The way you "parked" your car sideways when you would get home after a night out.
  

Wow. It's just not going to be the same. Oh well. Maybe a new, cute boy will move in. I'm good with neighbors. :)