Yesterday, Celeste sent this beautiful and far too complimentary guest post.  I CRIED for laughing while reading it.

So, of course, I had to send my [snarky comments] about it.

She, being the good sport that she is, said I should post my snarkified version.  People, if you don’t have a Celeste in your life, you are not living.  Find one.


Firstly, great big huge thank you to Joie for writing such a lovely introduction for me.  And also for picking (by instinct, mind you [yup, I am awesome]) my favorite pictures of me from the plethora of bad shots and mediocre shots (hooray for the “just-so!” [see, it’s a talent, not a complex]) available on facebook.  I also want to point out that the limb Sophie is working on in the picture is one she dragged across the yard for a rousing game of fetch.  Poor Joie did a tremendous job of marshaling her courage and wits in the face of Sophie’s enthusiasm and tenacity (she was determined to give those nose kisses).  She didn’t give herself quite enough credit there [freaky dog].

I originally had grand designs on writing an enlightening bit of blog heaven, but when the time came (and went) for the blog to be written, inspiration still had not struck.  Now you know why I don’t have a blog.  I can’t even keep my diary up to date.  So I thought I would relate the first time Joie and I met in real life (RL? Something like that.  Joie never professed me to be internet savvy. [IRL, dear, IRL—but I didn’t figure that out until three months ago, so I’m behind the curve, too.])

As Joie said, we “met” over at the-now-debunked/supposed-to-be-returning/hasn’t-been-updated-since-February  We bonded over well written original fiction and enthusiastic responses to thoughtful (as opposed to: “SQUUEE!! Like OMGGGGGGG!!!! That was so awesomeness!  Matty and Sandy 4eva!” [Ugh. *shudders*]) reviews. Those reviews quickly turned into “I’m stuck, so I’m emailing you the next chapter.  It needs help.  I need help” emails.  Which, after a bit, turned into “I must be insane…” emails.

And we all know that once you admit that to someone, you’re stuck with them, lest they tell other people.  So it was inevitable that the “I’m insane” emails turned into “I’m going to kill someone” telephone calls.  These, as Joie related, became more frequent and less vent-y occasions, and a friendship between girls who were actually not all that homicidal began to really develop.  [Funny story: Not too long ago, I got a call from Celeste telling me I was NOT ALLOWED to leave voice messages to that homicidal effect (we still occasionally have those days) because she didn’t want to be criminally liable if I did actually go Bi-Polar and snap. And that, people, is why we are friends.]

After about a year of regularly talking on the phone, and Joie moving from California to Colorado to Missouri. (I know, I still don’t get it either. [One reason: full tuition scholarship.])  We set a date.  Spring break, her dorm (which, by the way, was not just in Missouri, but middle-of-nowhere, one-stoplight-town Missouri [Hey! There were at least three stoplights between the campus and Wal*Mart (yeah, stay classy Marshall)!]), one week.  We were going to be real-people friends, come hell or high water.

As I approached the college – after turning the wrong direction and not realizing it until I had driven all the way through town twice – I solidly told myself, “This is not a big deal.  You’ve known Joie over a year.  If she was a psycho, she would have ratted herself out somehow by now.” [I was oblivious to this until about a year ago.  Apparently, she was afraid I was going to be a creeper in his 40’s.  With a girl’s voice.]

Being the Missouri girl that I am, by the time the dorm came into view, I had panicked, created, revised, and reviewed for efficiency a more useful plan of action.  If I pulled up and the person waiting for me looked like a nutter [What, exactly, is that look?], I would simply keep on driving, return to Springfield, and change my phone number and email address.

No big deal.

[And leave me standing on a curb, waiting and worrying for the rest of the week about my friend?  THANKS, CELESTE.]

[Yeah, yeah, I know I was making “oh-my-gosh-what-if-she’s-a-psycho” plans, too.  No snark backs!  Those are the rules.]

Thankfully, Joie looked harmless enough.  [Bwah hah hah hah.  Got you fooled, lovey.] Nevertheless, I reassured myself with the contingency plan that once she was in the car, I would not hesitate to utilize the pepper spray stashed under my seat, if the need to do so arose.  I even swore to myself that I wouldn’t feel bad about it later. (We Missouri girls are born with a 40 acre wide guilt capacity, for those of you not in the know. [So how’d I get it?])  The occasion never presented itself, and by the end of the day, we were the nutters.  Over the course of that week, in no particular order, we:

  • almost wet the bed/doubled up in the hall/cried from laughing on multiple occasions, most of which were ill timed and otherwise inappropriate [we would finally wind down and then I would start wheezing or she would snortle (or vise versa) and it would start all over again];
  • bowled horribly while wincing at the awkward advances of the unfortunate kid that worked at the lanes [“Is he checking out my a**? Is he standing there just to check out my a**?!” “I think so.” “He’s checking out my a**!  Creeper!”];
  • consumed at least one largish jar of pickles apiece [I seem to recall demolishing a jar a peanut butter (plain, with spoons), too]; and
  • stayed up all night twice solely in attempt to get fresh donuts and failed on both attempts – the first because we got hungry and gave it up in favor of McDonalds, the second because there actually isn’t anywhere to get fresh donuts in that particular middle-of-nowhere, one-stoplight [Hey!] Missouri town [I am still mad about this – the signs said Fresh Donuts!  And we went to TWO FREAKING stores!].

And those were just the highlights – that doesn’t even cover the stuff that happened that we think was hilarious (yes, random townie at McDonalds, I’m talking about you [Did we ever decide who he was waving at/honking at/hitting on?]) and everybody else looks at us strangely when we try to relay the hilarity of the situation.  That trip to meet Joie is my favorite Spring Break. [D’aawwww.  Me, too.]

I had an adventure!  [Yay!] I told that nagging voice in my head to jump off a cliff, and it didn’t bite me in the butt!  [Double yay!] I did things I never would have done anywhere else because someone might have known my parents (#smalltownlifehazard).  [And you left me to deal with said small town hazards (okay, not my parents, but my ENTIRE college) after you left.  Thanks.] It was awesome. [That it was.]

More importantly, Joie and I had a chance to solidify a friendship that is looking to be life-long.  (Sorry babe, any hope you had of escaping died during that trip.) [Same to you, hon.  Same to you. >)]

I am so glad Joie didn’t look like a nutter.