Height: Less tall than me, but not, like, wicked short or anything.
Hair: Sort of auburn-brownish. It used to be black when she was real little, which made her look like that little girl from The Ring. Except scarier.
Blood Type: Red.
Likes: horror movies, really good movies, really bad movies, the experience of going to the movies, Florida (especially Disney World), vodka, cats that would be unappealing to almost everyone else, forming silent judgements about people and never ever ever telling them, making mix CDs full of fantastic songs that I then steal because I'm unscrupulous.
Dislikes: When I steal her mix CDs because I'm unscrupulous, the fact that her friends won't stop dating each other, the fact that her friends all seem to have Big Problems That They Need to Talk About Right Now, getting wet, the summer heat, Florida (especially Disney World).
Tiffany and I met in college, where we both took film classes together. We would sit in darkened theatres, watching movies that were sometimes good and sometimes bad and sometimes just insane. She is still one of my favorite people to go see movies with, because her remarks are always intelligent. Like the time we saw the preview for the Country Bears movie, and she said, "Oh my god, no."
My favorite Tiffany-related memory is the time she was visiting me in New Hampshire, and she got to meet my grandparents. They asked her where she was from, and she said that she had been raised in Florida.
"Oh," said my grandmother. "So you're a Florida cracker."
Tiffany paused, momentarily at a loss for words after being the target of a racial slur by my (also white) grandparents. Then my grandmother started talking again, and everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably, regaining the flow of conversation after this odd little comment. We continued chatting for about half an hour or so, and then, upon leaving my grandparents' home, my grandmother gave Tiffany a goodbye hug and said, "We'll see you later, Florida cracker." Tiffany again looked uncomfortable and I began laughing delightedly at the awkwardness my grandparents are able to instill. My grandparents have met other white friends of mine, but never called them crackers; I can only assume that it had something specifically to do with Tiffany being from Florida. The lines of geographical ethnicity are indeed hard to cross.