In the 7 or 8 years that I've known my friend Emily--a couple of which we were even roommates--we periodically have the same conversation over and over again. Driving in the car, hanging out in the apartment, emailing about something or another. It always goes like this.

MorE: Which Cake (or Radiohead--it's always these two) CDs do you have again?

EorM: Blahbitty blah (lists them off). What about you?

MorE: Blahbitty blah.

EorM: I can't believe we're having this conversation again. How many times can we go over this?

MorE: I know. It's lame. What's wrong with us?

I don't know why it's so difficult to keep this info straight, but we managed to rehash this topic once again over IM today. After all these years, Em makes a valid point when she says we'll most likely repeat this conversation until we die. I like the thought of us sitting around in our 80's, with tightly-curled purple old lady hair, discussing our music collections.

MorE: Hey, can I borrow your Pablo Honey cd?

EorM: For the love of God! I don't own Pablo Honey! Remember?!? We've been over this a million times!

MorE: Eh? What did you say? I don't like honey?!? What's that got to do with anything?

We will be hard of hearing, natch, from all our concert going in our youth.