Holy Crapballs, That Was A Person

Every single time I get into my car, first of all, I check for flooding (yes, my car floor fills with water when it rains) and second of all, I prepare myself for the possibility that I will commit involuntary manslaughter at some point.   I might be the WORST driver in this city.  Maybe even the tri-state area.  Well, at least the small radius from my house to Ohio.  Friends: I’m extending an invitation for you to leave a comment stating proof of this fact if you’d like.  (If you can’t focus cus you’re still stuck on that flooding car thing, I have no clue where the water comes from, why it’s there, or how to make it stop.)  (Friends: please note that invitation expires after this post.)

So the other day, I’m driving with one of my friends and this conversation takes place:

Friend: Holy crapballs, that was a person.

Me: Where

Friend: Behind us.  Standing in shock cus they almost died.  Did you not see them or what?

Me:  No.  I was looking for a sweet parking spot so you won’t have to walk in the rain.  

Friend:  How about I’ll be happy to walk in the rain in exchange for not assisting in murder.

Me: You say that now, but you’ll be singing a different tune when your hair starts to frizz.

Friend: Why do I continue to go places with you.

Me: Okay.  Do I not warn you every time you get in this car of my horrible driving skills and that you’re putting your life at risk?

Friend: Yes, you do.  But I…

Me:  And do I not always make it a fun experience?

Friend: I guess.  But you don’t obey any traffic laws, and…

Me: And do you not feel more alive and appreciative of your life after you get out of the car?  Is the sun, not a bit brighter?  The grass, a bit browner? 

Friend:  Definitely. more. appreciative.

Me: So can you stop already with the melodramatic whine fest.  I told you I haven’t gotten into an accident since I was 16.

Friend:  But you have a HOLE IN YOUR HEAD because of that accident.

Me:  That’s correct.  And I’m definately more appreciative of my head now.

Kenny Chronicles: A Conversation at Starbucks

Kenny, my metrosexual best friend and I meet at a bookstore or Starbucks on a quasi-regular basis to discuss our issues. I think we feel that the bookstore-ish surroundings make us more intellectual than we actually are, which in turn helps us more quickly penetrate to the heart of our problems.  Of course, this isn’t really successful because everyone acknowledges that merely sitting in a bookstore does not make you more intellectual

I arrive to find Kenny sitting out on the patio, sipping on an overly-priced mountain of coffee flavored whipped cream and looking rather introspective.  As I park my car, I instantly notice a drastic change upon my friend’s all too familiar face.  I don’t like change.  Before I sit down, I go inside and purchase the ridiculously too-big cookie of the day, which is always some random shape that makes no sense.  That day it was a lemon wedge. And the following conversation begins:

Me:  Seriously? You got your hair cut.

Kenny:   I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Me: But Richie’s wedding is next week.

Kenny: I know.  But it’s sooooo hot outside.

seinfeld-jerry-and-elaineMe: Sooo hot?  My hair is black and 3 feet long  and you don’t see me buzzing it off do you?

Kenny:  Relaaaax.  IT’S HAIR.  It’ll grow back.

Me: Not in ONE WEEK!   How many months have I been saying that we need to get some good pictures at this wedding?  And you keep it long this entiiiire time….And a week before the wedding you get too hot?

Kenny: I know we need some new pictures.  We’ll get some.

Me: No we won’t. because we cannot possibly have cute pictures with your hair hacked off like that.

Kenny: It doesn’t look that bad?

Me: Well it doesn’t look that good.  Ugh. This is unbelievable.

For more of the Kenny Chronicles:

How to Talk Yourself Out of Dating Almost Anyone

A Metrosexual in a Yankees hat

A Bad Gordita and Some Classy Water

Black Friday, Depression, and a Salvation Army Chair

How We Met

Photo credit: Starbucks