Is there anything better than a girlfriend? When you’re feeling like the world is no place for such a nice person as yourself, isn’t calling the best lady you know the first thing you want to do (after wallowing at the bottom of a PBR and a vat of Ben and Jerry’s for half the day)? Who else but a great girl-buddy will lie to you about the hideous new haircut that makes you look like a poodle, or unfailingly insist that your Bad Relationship is a creep and he doesn’t deserve you at all (even though you’ve been a real a-hole to everyone within reach for about a week, and probably provoked him. And even though she’s said the same thing at least a million times already), or tell you when your blog post is lame?
I pride myself on being a first class girlfriend. I’m not the kind of girly girlfriend who’s going to bake cookies with you or for you (I only bake cookies once every two years. And then only when I’m forced to), and I don’t “do lunch” (unless it’s really greasy fish and chips or take-out noodles) and I don’t hang out at the gym or in day spas. But dangit, I’ll hold your hair while you’re puking. Or I’ll drive for 4 ½ hours just to spend 20 minutes at your baby shower. Or I’ll help you pack up your house and move it when you’re overwhelmed and under-manned. Or I’ll dish out some seriously astute advice (most of the time without being asked). I’ll even finish off a half dead baby bunny for any one of my girls. Any one of them.
For Day 17 of One Thousand Days, I gladly made a trip back to my One Thousand Days roots and diverted my afternoon to sit on the sunny side of the house and listen to one of my favorite lady’s slightly weepy exclamations of terrible day and even worse week-ness. Because she called in tears (“oh god! I didn’t even start crying until I called you!), and I love her.
Holly would approve. In fact, she did approve. Just after she wiped the snot off her nose (post weepy exclamation of terrible day and even worse week-ness) and took another big gulp of PBR.
Day 17 down, 983 to go.
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