There is nothing better in life than finding your people. Someone who gets your jokes, likes your cooking, thinks you dress cool, and doesn’t judge you when you eat a sleeve or two of girl scout cookies with perhaps a small ice cream chaser and maybe a chip or two – crinkle cut – salt and pepper – or salt and vinegar in a pinch – yes maybe bleu cheese when I’m super high. Sometimes you travel through life with these people and sometimes you meet new ones along the way and add them to your people list. My people list is strong and thankfully it continues to grow. This is due in part to the fact that if you cross me I will cut you off of the people list like cancer and replace you. It’s not that hard. You’re not that awesome. I am.
The other great thing about having people is that they will in fact call you on your shit. Again, don’t call me on too much because this too will get you crossed off. But if you can find someone who tells you the truth – most of the truth – not the whole truth because that’s too fucking much – then this is someone to add to your people list. And this is the fine line of friendship – how much to tell. For instance – the other day I found a really long black hair sprouting out of my fucking face and not one fucking person told me the entire day. I was outraged. And then I thought – would I tell my friend if he or she had a giant hair growing from his or her face? Probably not. It’s a hard thing to say. Like telling someone they have bad breath. Or a booger in their nose. You want to, but it’s a tough call. However, if you can find someone willing to take a possible punch to the face for their honesty than this person is a keeper. My neighbor is one of those people. Except for the chin hair he didn’t tell me about. And I adore him. So, to celebrate his honesty I shall tell you a story that was hideously embarrassing to him. Because that’s what we do for people on our list right? If you can laugh “at” you than the world will laugh “with” you. Either that is my excuse or I’m just so fucking tired of him mocking me that now that something hideous has happened to him I want to publically shame him. Yeah it’s the second one.
So the other day my neighbor and his equally lovely and honest roommate came over for dinner. They each arrived in neon yellow shirts. I didn’t know it was eighties night, but hey, I’m game. Apparently she had chosen to wear one and so he chose to wear one as well so it was only natural that when they arrived I too switched into a neon yellow shirt. Yes, I have one. I’m not a savage. I know what you’re thinking – “wild crowd – wow, what you do to have fun is daring – ohmigod what a night – gosh how can I join this group” – and you’d be right. We’re amazing. But I digress.
After dinner we decided to go get some froyo – something I don’t get but indulge him with because that’s what friends do. Or I was high. Yeah it’s the second one. On our way there, my friend looked up and saw someone he knew – someone he had flirted with and thought about dating but that idea had stalled. This guy had been stringing him along and now was his moment. They were face to face. No awkward texting to decipher. This was big. “Hey what’s going on? What are you up to?” the hot guy yelled to my friend. “Oh nothing, just going to get some froyo!” he yelled back. “Oh, okay, cool” the hot guy said. And that was it and off we went. It was odd and confusing and no one really understood what was happening until my friend took a solid look around at us and said – “I just told a hot guy that I’m going to get froyo with my two retarded girlfriends in matching neon fucking yellow sweatshirts. I wouldn’t call me either.” I wanted to console him but I was too busy pointing and laughing. And that’s what it means to have people. Sometimes they hug you. And sometimes you laugh at them because they didn’t tell you about the hair in your face. We’re even now mother fucker.