Anne and I trekking in Nepal!

So if you read my blog, you’ll know that my BFF Anne Hurley died suddenly of an aneurysm three years ago. It was one of the saddest moments of my life and I miss that blonde so much.

The day Anne died, we left the hospital and all went back to her house. I was with her parents and brothers, her husband, and their little boy. Her unstable flight attendant friend Stacey was also there. Stacey drank too much and needed a lot of attention. She was also threatened by me, so as a general rule I tried stay as far away from her as possible.

Stacey and Anne.

We were all sitting at the dining room table, crying and laughing at the same time. We were all sharing our stories about Anne. Stacey walked into the kitchen and sat back down with Anne’s iphone. She looked at me and said “Just so you know, Laurel, all your voicemails are still on her phone. There’s a lot of them on there and some are very, uhmm, private.”

That bitch! She listened to all my fucking voicemails? What the hell?? My entire life flashed before my eyes as I thought of all the messages I had left Anne over the last few years. All those NYC hookups with 25-year-olds, the IT guy at work, dressing up as Naked Cowgirl at parties, Burning Man, all the late night slurred messages telling her how much I loved her. Suddenly I felt very vulnerable. Had her parents listened to them too? I didn’t even want to know.

Then people started passing the phone around seeing who Anne texted last, what photos she had, who was in her contacts. Her younger brother Rich showed me my contact info on Anne’s iphone. All it said was Woods, my ph# and email, and Douchebag30.

Rich started laughing hysterically. “What the hell is this Woodsy?” He showed it to me and I started laughing. God I missed her. Anne wasn’t on Facebook but when she wanted to look someone up she’d use my account. My password was Douchebag30. It was in reference to my 30-year-old physical therapist that I thought was cute for a hot minute, until he started drunk texting me nonsense at 3am.

Stacey’s ears suddenly perked up. Oh God, I knew what she had in mind. I changed my Facebook password that night. The next day it had been mysteriously locked out from three failed login attempts.

I drove back down to Los Angeles from Saratoga after Anne’s funeral. I was crying so hard at times I couldn’t even see the road in front of me. Out of respect for Anne’s family, I had left all my texts and voicemails on Anne’s iphone. A few days later, I listened to all the messages I still had from Anne. Once I got to the one where she was discussing the “tiny Asian penis” I had encountered, I texted Anne’s Dad immediately.

“Heeey Bill, wassup? Uhmm so would you mind deleting all my texts and voicemails from Anne’s phone? I’d rather no one listen to those if that’s okay.” A few minutes passed and no response, then a text from Bill, “Done and done.” I love that guy. He’s an ex-FBI agent and takes his tasks very seriously.

So my lesson to you all is BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY IN YOUR VOICEMAILS! I mean honestly I have no regrets, but I am a bit cautious now when I leave messages. You never know where your friend’s phone might end up. And unstable Stacey? I deleted her from Facebook and you know what? I super liked it!