A few years ago I planned an intimate gathering at my house that ultimately turned into a massive houseparty to include practically every friend and acquaintance I’d ever made or known in life.
About an hour into the party, a group of friends began reminiscing “Hey, do you remember [fill in the blanks]? Jeez, I wonder whatever happened to them – God, I haven’t seen them in ages.” It became a game when we decided if we could somehow network a connection to these people via other human channels, and invite them to the party. A few hours later, our “intimate” group of twenty had turned into a raucous, pulsing crowd of nearly sixty. And the game continued. And it was fun. And then my best friend decided to pull out the big guns – “Whatever happened to that REALLY, REALLY HOT guy you used to date back in ’99, Sarah, [name redacted for privacy purposes]?” I’d always had this uncanny knack for remembering phone numbers, and his wasn’t an exception. “Call ’em up,” I said. She did, indeed, “call ’em up,” and twenty-five minutes later I received a call from said best friend, who left to meet him outside of town. They’d evidently met and he’d stopped at a convenience store for more beer when she called me to tell me the pickup had been made. “Heshurditrirted,” she said, or what it sounded like anyway. “What??” I squawked, cigarette hanging out of my mouth, jamming my index finger into my free ear, trying to block out the party noises. She repeated herself, a bit more loud this time: “I said ‘HE SURE DETERIORATED’.”
You know, it’s funny how certain memories crop up when you see certain photos. I mean, I probably hadn’t even thought of that incident in eight years until I just saw this photo of Lindsay Lohan, and the only reason it even came to mind right now is because that eerily prophetic statement came back to haunt me the moment I laid eyes on this picture.
Scary how that shit happens, you know?
On that note, let’s take a moment to really remember who Lindsay Lohan used to be*, shall we?