I’m sure I’m not the only one who had friends and family on what-ever-social-site(s)-you-use posting “30 days of thanks” because of Thanksgiving. Maybe you’re even one of those people. Good for you. I am entirely too lazy to do such a thing.
Hell, people are lucky I brush my teeth every day.
Though, I’ve often wondered why people wait until November to spout off and share all the things that they’re thankful for. I’m thankful for things everyday of my life. I even have a list to look at when I need a reminder because I’m getting that “not so fresh” feeling and am ready to
strangle someone pull all of my hair out drown myself in vodka until I’m happy lock myself in the laundry room in a vain attempt to hide and gather some sanity.
On my list of Things To Be Thankful For, good friends are pretty high up there. Right between “Coffee” and “Bacon”.
Throughout my life, friends have come and gone. I try to keep the good ones, and let go of the bad as often as possible. Sometimes you spend years getting to know someone, just for them to show you that they were really just a peanut butter and turd sandwich disguised as noodles covered in awesome-sauce the whole time. I think that life brings you those people to teach you a lesson. Even if that lesson is just how to make really good Kool-Aid.
When you’re a child, friends seem to come easy. All it took was for someone to have one thing in common with you, and all of a sudden, you’re attached at the hip for the remainder of the playground visit. Remember that?
Middle school is a totally different story. There’s conversations about Lisa Frank stickers and which member of
The New Kids On The Block whatever boy-band reigns supreme at the moment you’re going to marry, and calling the local pizza place to order 15 pies topped with extra anchovies to be delivered to your BFF’s neighbor’s house during a sleep-over.
Then comes high school. Four hormone driven years of back-stabbing, judging, confusion, pimples, unsatisfying sexual encounters, homework, and stealing your best friend’s boyfriend because he has a car. (FYI: I never stole anyone’s boyfriend over a car. It was a moped, and he was 18, so he could buy my cigarettes. And also, she wasn’t my friend, so it doesn’t even count.)
Fortunately for me, I was one of those weird people that got along with everyone, with the exception of a few of the fat girls that didn’t get my sense of humor. I guess I had just moved around enough as a child to realize that these people probably wouldn’t be around forever, so I didn’t really give a shit what they thought.
One day, one particular girl said to me, “You’re not even funny. Why don’t you go sit on an egg until it hatches?” I replied, “That’s not funny either. And you can keep your egg. My mom won’t let me have anymore llamas.”
Right now I have some friends that I ab-so-fucking-lutely adore that I don’t talk to as often as I should. (I kind of really suck at phone calls.)
There are also some people that I love, but would rather have a raging case of herpetitis than spend more than an hour alone with them. (Small doses or group settings are fine.)
And then there are my REAL friends…
They’re the kind of people that would stop what they were doing to join me in a tag-team wrestling match against a big woman named Bertha that was just released from prison, and whom I seem to have offended by mistakenly hitting on her. (How the hell was I supposed to know that they think “The drool on your beard makes it glisten like the stars in this dimly lit bar…” is a compliment in the slammer?)
And if they couldn’t make it to the fight in time, they’d at least break me out of jail for shankin’ a bitch with a broken beer bottle…
They’re the people that have children that I call things like “Spawn”, “Santa”, or “Insanely adorable fund-sucking twat-monsters”. I can tell them that their child is “so fucking cute that I want to eat his stupid, fat, little face right off!” – and they don’t call the cops. In fact, they smile, and say something like “I know. I almost wanted to punch him for being so damn adorable yesterday, but then I remembered that I was in line at the grocery store, and that they’re mandatory reporters. Plus, I didn’t want to get drool on my hand.”
Or they post something like this to your FB wall at 3am, a week after you ask them if it’s possible to fart out of your dick.
They’re the ones that I can call in the middle of the night because I came up with an amazing new way to take over the world.
“They” say that real friends are like assholes; everybody should have at least one.
Well, I’ve got a few assholes. They’re some of the names on my People I Want To Skin And Wear As A Coat list, because they’re so fucking awesome that it hurts. And those are the ones that I am thankful for on a daily basis. Not just in November.
So, thank you, now and forever, for being my assholes…
I promise to always tell you when you have a hair out of place.