It's also got me thinking a lot. I wonder if I would have ended up using colored macaroni to recreate the Sistine chapel on my living room ceiling if I hadn't made such good friends as I have in my 30's. I have never been very good at making or keeping friends. Until I hit 34, I could have counted my friends on one finger. I guess I have too many sharp angles and I'm sensitive to fault and what goes on in my head is fairly surreal. Most people back away quickly.
My husband, Saint Winston, has been my friend since I was 14. I think part of what he loves about me is that if he asks me "What do you want to do tonight?" he's going to get either:
1. Let's watch Season 1 of V and eat nachos. (eighties mini series not 2009 piece of crap)
2. Let's eat chicken fingers and listen to some Bluegrass.
He also loves my back tattoo. Not many people would be on board with all of that.
I met my friend Victoria (don't you dare call her Vickie) when she moved into my old neighborhood. New construction, uppity city, bursting with snobs. Of course, we figured that out about a week after we moved in. The neighbors were already making snarky comments about our grass and the huge pile of shoes that live in our garage. I hid for the next 5 years. Then Victoria moves in; tall, gorgeous, long-legged red head. I decided to hate her. Instead, she shows up at my door one day, bearing a platter of Fruity Pebbles-based Rice Krispie treats and says, "You seem normal; what the hell's wrong with all these people?"
Then Victoria and I found Audrey. Audrey avoided everyone in our neighborhood, sprinting into her house if you tried to make eye contact. She had also made it onto the "never invited to the block party" list. Our Audrey is about the size and consistency of dandelion fluff and smokes like a chimney. She can out drink 300 pound men. I get texts from her, randomly, that say things like:
"Dana! Did a brazillian on a big black man today! Happy New Year!"
or
"Thinking of getting a St. Francis tattoo! "
or
"Buying a hot tub with my mother!"
Thanks to Audrey, I am now covered with tattoos and know how to make a kick ass lemon semi-freddo. And she takes me to gay weddings. I have no idea how I attracted all these people. I was just hiding out in my house like I always have. But somehow we all found each other. Which brings me to Lorie.
Lorie, my co-blogger, is screamingly hysterical and the kindest soul on the planet. We met working at the library. She taught me how to avoid all the security cameras so we could lay around and gossip. If I am feeling overwhelmed or like my life is spiraling out of control into a pit of depression, she doesn't tell me things are going to be alright. She sends me things like this:
Instant mood changer! And there is no one else on the planet that I could have this text exchange with while I was hiding in my creepy basement:
Lorie: I need to bedazzle a turtle.
Dana: Box, painted or soft shell?
Lorie: Box
Dana: Is there a theme or occasion? What is the turtle's name? Can I be his godmother?
Lorie: There is a bedazzled turtle in the Rum Diary's trailer. So not as random as it may appear. We will take him to fancy luncheons, with finger sandwiches. People will marvel at our eccentricity. You will be his Auntie.
Dana: Have you begun the adoption process?
Lorie: hmmm. His name shall be Mr. Wilde.The stones will be pink, purple and diamond. He will live a fabulous life, wandering around my house throwing sparkly rainbows as he walks through sunbeams.
Dana: I find nothing random about this. It's a logical progression.
Lorie: His Auntie Mame!
Dana: We'll have birthday parties!
Lorie: and wear tiaras!
Dana: He'll be sassy. And opinionated.
Lorie: As his namesake was. Oliver would be nothing but proud! OSCAR! Swype is not my friend.
Dana: Damn autocorrect. They messed with the wrong turtle. Mr. Wilde will need a cape.
Lorie: Watching Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. It's messing with my head!!! Guillermo Del Toro and his freaking goblins!
Dana: Is there a doll under the bed? Del Toro is a nightmare maker. Pan's Labyrinth freaked me out.
Lorie: No dolls under beds yet. Just homicidal goblins with box cutters. and Katie Holmes.
Dana: lol. sounds like a comedy. Let me know if Katie Holmes shows her boobies. Winston wants to know. He's ten years old. Did you ever watch that show Kath and Kim? Awesome.
Lorie: I will be on alert looking for boobies. and report back if affirmative.
Dana: He's giggling.
Lorie: Sarah and I both loved Kath and Kim. No one else watched it. Just the three of us.
Dana: :( Winston loved the ambiguously gay fiancee.
Lorie: Oh no! Katie Holmes has her serious face on. Still no boobies. Sorry Winston.
Dana: Must be another movie. Or Dawson's Creek?
(end text stream)
Lorie gets my shopping taste too. She found this for me:
I asked her what she thought the holes were for. She said, "That's where her soul used to be."
The traveling sort, she just got back from New York. No useless souvenirs for her. She brought me a purple pashmina with the Evil Eye sewed into the corner, just in case. That's a true friend. And omg what the hell kind of medicine is this that is causes unexplained facial expressions? Is my doctor just messing with me? Am I going to start twitching and screaming random obscenities and laughing like an idiot? And if I go off of it, do I still have to plan this reunion?
~dana
