When Casey Cordy was twelve, she saw a movie that changed her life profoundly. It was "The Longest Way Home", a pre-teen heart wrenching tale about a girl that moved far far away from her one true love, who was battling Leukemia. It stared Gretta Werner and Bowen Aaron. The exact second she saw his ten foot face on the screen, her heart fluttered and then flew up into her throat. She, like every other twelve to seventeen year old girl in North American was bowled over by the floppy haired god that was Bowen Aaron. She immediately forked over her hard earned money for every glossy magazine that had Bowen's face on the cover, even the ones that promised a mere mention of him. She kept a picture of a shirtless Bowen sitting on a broken boat dock, in her underwear drawer. She imagined marrying him countless times, never in a million years did she even consider that in just ten short years she would be introduced to him at a PJ Clarke's over after work appetizers.

One of her closest friends from college just happened to have attended the same Summer Camp as Bowen, Casey immediately regretted the time they had stayed up all night cramming for a mid term, giggling about movie star crushes among other things. Over a quick, somewhat embarrassing introduction, Casey concluded that he was surprisingly normal for a formal child star. His dimples were as deep as she remembered them, and his hair still flopped over his eyebrows in an endearing puppy dog kind of way. He was charming, polite, and even tempered. She felt like she was a teenager all over again. They saw each other every day after that first night.

Casey glanced over at the alarm clock. two thirteen am. that was about right she thought. She heard Bowen kick off his shoes and pad down the hall in his socks, most likely shuffling out of his jeans and whipping his sweat stained t-shirt into the laundry basket on his way down the hall...or leaving it on the kitchen chair, which was the likeliest of all possible equations.

"hi babe" he murmured as he slid into bed beside her, already staking his claim on eighty percent of the quilt and duvet. he smelled like a lovely man mix of scotch, sweat, and keihl's amnio acid shampoo.

"hi", she mumbled back, shifting slightly to recover her share of the bedding. "how'd it go?"

He launched into the events of the evening. In recent years he had made the leap from Pre-Teen stud puppy to Actor-slash-comedian and regular on Whatz Up?, a blatant Saturday Night Live rip off, known for it's vulgarity and hot topic issues that provided fodder for next day watercooler conversations. The show touched on issues that other respectable shows wouldn't go near with a ten foot pole. Jerry Springer guests take acid and go on the bender to all benders with the TMZ crew and a Catholic priest, was how Bowen once described it to a roomful of Casey's work colleagues.

much has happened in the past weeks. please find a handy study guide included.

the gang

annabelle blue: her real name, she wishes it was an alias. annabelle is one of my oldest and dearest friends, we met in senior kindergarden when she took the last red crayon and she created a mini mutiny when she broke the crayon in half so we each could have a piece. she is a redhead through and through although she has gotten tired of it so she has taken to wearing wigs depending on her mood. she likes heated debates about anything under the sun, icy blended drinks, reading between the lines, and her live in boyfriend simon.

frances hobbes-finley: is a cool blonde that is usually compaired to veronica lake. she was born into money and people can usually tell within the first few minutes of meeting her. the name is the first dead giveaway, her warm but restrained persona falls second. she is bubbly and beautiful and expects only the best for and from her friends.

alice weston: is the girl everyone gravitates to, men and women alike. she is the girl that can go through a subway station whistling and in stocking feet and by the end of the night there are at least three craigslist missed encounters dedicated to finding her. she has huge brown eyes and irresistable curls and dimples someone could drown in, her first grade teacher would be able to pick her out of a line up, after twenty plus years of non contact.

my sister, the lovely and amazing carin cartwright detailed in minor later. she is barbie personified, but made from flesh and bone and one of the warmest people i have ever met.

casey cartwright: yep. it's always hard to describe yourself without either gushing or being self deprecating. i'm taller than most men, and i've coined the term charmingly chubby as one of the ways i describe myself. i am a big girl that has become acustomed to being the friend to all men and the quirky sidekick to my slim striking girlfriends. i have been in love with the same man for a very long time, i love pulpy orange juice, collecting records, reading and the colour green.

tuesday

sometimes i wonder what life would be like if i had never met him. easier most likely. it wasn't until i was twenty when i realized overnight he had become a man. as per his religion he was officially a man at thirteen, but one day six years ago i was outside reading an issue of jane and suddenly the only thing boyish about him was the sneaky glint in his eyes . i remember feeling waves of shock that were violently battling against an immediate attraction. i can't be attracted to the boy that use to pick his nose and wipe it on the basement wall when we were in the third grade. picking his nose and calling it modern art as it was dubbed by him years later when he knew well enough to be embarrassed. the boy that leaped up on his chair in the sixth grade and announced to the class that i had gotten my first period (it was deserved, i had loudly pointed out his sweatpants boner to the girls during lunch recess). he was the boy next door in the truest form. our childhoods melded into each other. there was a nogastlia and a hatred usually saved for a sibling that we shared. suddenly, shockingly, he was a man and i had no idea how much trouble i would be in.

monday

my sister is getting married in under two weeks. she is younger, thinner, and has better hair than i could ever dream of. in addition to these perks of her charmed life she's marrying a millionaire man that she fell head over heels for when they both reached for the sailboat at the water table in senior kindergarden. doug will be her first and last kiss, and i'm surprisingly not jealous. i'm jealous of the fact she can run 5k in just under half an hour, has an enviable apartment minutes from her job, and once again...that hair. that goddamn bouncy hair that never looks disshelveled. she is happy and in love and i am very happy for her. i am also thrilled beyond (also honoured) that i was chosen as her maid of honour. i will use this royal duty to my personal advantage and look smokin hot in whatever taffetta gown i am to wear, because doug's brother, and the man i have been salivating over for the past six years, will be standing mere feet away...taking his place as the best man.