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Saturday friend, which meant she came over to aloo gobi is delicious, Dr. Chokalingam,” she’d 5
my house Saturday and we spent the afternoon say to my mother, between bites. “You should
watching television together. start a restaurant.” My mother always protested
Mavis and I bonded over comedy. It didn’t when Mavis called her by the formal “Dr.” name, section one
matter if it was good or bad; at fourteen, we but I think it secretly pleased her. She was
didn’t really know the difference. We were sick of some of my other friends saying things /
comedy nerds, and we just loved watching and like: “Hey, Swati, how’s the practice going?” in
talking about it nonstop. We holed up in my fam- that modern, we-call-parents-by-their-first-
ily’s TV room with blankets and watched hours names fashion of liberally raised East Coast Mindy Kaling
of Comedy Central. Keep in mind this is not the kids. Both my parents were very fond of Mavis.
Comedy Central of today, with the abundance of Who wouldn’t love a hungry, complimentary,
great shows like South Park, The Daily Show, and respectful kid?
The Colbert Report. This was the early ‘90s, where But that was Saturday. At school, I had a
you had to really search around to find decent completely different set of friends.
stuff to watch. We’d start with the good shows, My posse at school was tight, and there were 5
Dr. Katz, Kids in the Hall, or Saturday Night Live exactly four of us: Jana, Lauren, Polly, and me.
reruns, but when those were over, we were lucky We had been friends since middle school, which
if there was some dated movie playing like was only two years, but seemed like a lifetime.
Porky’s or Kentucky Fried Movie. With all the The number of people in our friend group was
raunchy ‘80s sex comedies Comedy Central important because of all the personalized best
played, at times it felt like we were watching friend gear we had that read “JLMP,” the first
a confusing soft-core porn channel. It wasn’t letters of our first names. We had JLMP beaded
our favorite programming, but like the tray of bracelets, JLMP embroidered bobby socks. We
croissants from Costco my mom left for us on commissioned a caricature artist at Faneuil Hall
the kitchen table, Mavis and I devoured it none- in Boston to do a cartoon of the four of us with
theless. We loved comedy and wanted to watch JLMP in giant cursive letters underneath. These
everything. And more than that, we loved reen- mementos cemented our foursome to both us
acting what we saw. The Church Lady’s catch- and the other people at school. You couldn’t get
phrases were our catchphrases, and we repeated in, and you couldn’t get out. Nothing says impen-
them until my mother said, exasperated: “Please etrability and closeness like a silk-screened T-shirt
stop saying ‘Isn’t that special?’ in that strange with an acronym most people don’t understand.
voice. It is annoying to me and to others.” JLMP knew who Mavis was — she was a lifer at
At fourteen, Mavis was already five foot ten. our school, which meant she had been there
She had short, dark, slicked-back hair like Don since kindergarten, and longer than any of us
Johnson in Miami Vice. She was very skinny had been there — but she made no impact on our
and had women’s size eleven feet. I know this view of the social landscape. We didn’t really talk
because she accidentally wore my dad’s boat or think about her; it was as if she was a substitute
shoes home one time. Mavis was a big, appre- Spanish teacher or something.
ciative eater, which my parents loved. When she The Cheesecake Factory played a major
visited, she made a habit of immediately open- role in JLMP’s social life. We went there every
ing the fridge and helping herself to a heaping Friday after school. These were our wild Friday
bowl of whatever leftover Indian food we had night plans. Remember, this was back in the ‘90s,
and a large glass of orange juice. “This roti and before the only way to be a cool teenager was

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