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Thursday, February 02, 2006

La-la la-la, la-la la-la

"Ich hab eh schon versucht simple zu sein, doch das geht nicht gut.
Es liegt mir im Blut, Ma und Pa, blame it on you..."
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I couldn't really think of a way, much less a picture, to kick off this post. So there you go...a cat in a sink. It's neither my cat, nor my sink. But it kinda makes you think, right?

Anyway, yesterday Moms and I were rollin around town in my dad's truck, running errands and so forth. It was a pleasant 60 degrees, so we had the windows down and the system up, blasting Curse down May Ave. And my mom was like, "I don't understand what they're saying, it's all jubba-jubba-jah to me." And I was like, "Well, yeah, it's German, Ma." Then she was like, "Oh ok...I thought they were just saying something to say something." Then she proceeded to join in on the "la-la-la's" in the chorus. A good time was had by all (all both of us, that is).

I spent the rest of the day thinking about friendship. Which also has nothing to do with cats in sinks or German hip-hop...but like I said, I don't really know where this is going, so I'll just throw it all in here.

You see, there's this friend of mine, we haven't known each other for very long, but a few months ago we were hanging out and she asked me if I would be her best friend. Her request was greeted with a stunned silence on my part a.) because we're not in the 4th grade any more and you generally don't ask another adult to be your best friend and b.) it kind just came outta nowhere.

So then I had two choices: I could lie and say "Oh yeah, sure that would be fab." But then I thought of all the trouble that would be, because if she's asking in the first place, she's probably going to hold me to some kind of obligation. On the other hand, I could tell the truth and say no...thus making a horribly awkward situation...even more horribly awkward.

Of course, I went with Door #2, but I did it in a "No, I can't be your best friend, but we can be regular friends." The problem being that she only heard, "No, I can't be your...friend." Which I didn't figure out that this is how she had taken in until about a week later when we were hanging out again. In the meantime, I had thought everything was cool again. But alas, women are crazy...and everytime I see her, she just keeps twisting my words around, while on the inside I'm thinking, "Woman, you are insane!"

It reminds me of the time I was at a restaurant in Berlin with a bunch of people and someone had asked if I was friends with this other guy...and I was like, "Yeah, we're friends, I bet he curses the day that he met me." Which, to me is like one of the true standards of friendship, because sure you remember the good times...but sometimes it's that crazy bad shit that keeps you being friends...with a vengeance.

To put it all in perspective, it's like how every once and a while Murdoc would drop in on Macgyver and try to kill him. I bet after the first couple of times Macgyver thought that Murdoc was dead, but really he wasn't, yeah, I bet that made Mac look over his shoulder a lot more. Like he'd get up to go brush his teeth, but then he'd discover that his toothbrush was already wet...and the first thought in his mind? Probably, "Murdoc, I know you're in yourself!"

That's the kind of friend I want to be. I mean not the kind that uses your toothbrush, because that's gross...but the kind that doesn't get out of your head and makes you go, "Damn you, Raven!" ....even when I'm miles and miles and miles away.

Don't get me wrong...good times* are awesome. Sure people are gonna be excited if the Prize Patrol shows up at your door during the Super Bowl with a giant check for an outrageous sum of money...

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Maybe it'll even get you on the Today Show and Ann Curry will interview you

aka Satan
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But after a few weeks, you'll fade back into the background, because a big check does not a lasting impression make.

Now, if you're the person who causes a plague of fire-shitting porcupines to rain down... that's something people are going to remember. It will be burned into their memories, so to speak. Cause's fire...and porcupine quills...

Hey, it could happen...
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Nope, that's a story that'd get passed down through the generations.

Kid: Hey Grandpa, what happened to your eye?
Grandpa: Well, I was just about your age, playing outside, when I heard a thunderous noise. I looked up to the sky...and a firey porcupine quill landed in my eye. It hurt like hell.
Kid: Wow, I can't believe you actually survived the Great Flaming Ass Porcupine Plague...

So far, the closest I've gotten to making people curse the day that they met me was filling up gift packages with lots of confetti. And really, this was an old trick that I picked up from Miss Fee. You see, she sent me a package, way back when, filled with little paper confetti and it just spread like a virus to all of my boxes. Occasionally, I'll still run across some of the stuff..then I think, "Ahhh!! Damn you, Miss Fee! I thought I saw the last of it!" But then I smile, cause it's from her.

So to sum it all up, no, I can't make it rain fire-shitting porcupines...but that's kind of the effect that I'm going for.

The End.

*= Unless we're talking about the 70s TV show Good Times, which is actually kind of depressing for a sitcom

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