I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

*Roller skates were first patented by Belgium inventor John Joseph Merlin in 1760.  Three hundred and fifty years later people are still fucking themselves up because of this asshole.

Last weekend, Mike and I took our daughters roller skating.  My olfactory senses were immediately assaulted by the repugnant smell of pubescent pheromones and body odor.  I took to the rink flanked by my eight year old and someone’s unsupervised toddler on crack.  Memories of slow skating with my junior high boyfriend while listening to ‘Boyz 2 Men’ came flooding to me.  My boyfriend with zits told me he “liked my bangs.”  To his credit, he was rather astute as my bangs were magnificent.  They were very tall and stiff and I spent forty-five minutes every day styling them.  One day my mom had to take me to the doctor and he patted me on the head when we were leaving.  My bangs did not like being touched by strangers and so they stabbed him.  My doctor stared at me like I had a giant penis growing out of my forehead and told my mom to take me to a specialist for further testing.

Anyhow, we were cruising along when my daughter whipped out in front of me and fell.  I skated over her pinkie finger and landed on my ass.  Her finger was not broken but she is dramatic like her dad so we stopped at Walgreen’s on the way home to get a splint.  I hobbled in holding my left butt cheek while my other daughter scampered off and came back with a cane for me.  The four of us proceeded to laugh uncontrollably until the clerk cleared her throat because obviously this is where fun goes to die.  The next day, my friend Monica gave my daughter a big hug and said, “Oh No Sweetheart!  Did your fat mom roll over you?” 

Next up, a friend of mine from high school is stationed in Afghanistan and I thought it would be nice to send him a care package to lift his spirits.  I asked the girls to color some pictures for him to cheer him up.  My thoughtful and emotionally intuitive daughter spent an hour drawing a dramatic war scene juuuuuuuuust in case my buddy forgot he really was fighting a war.  Please don't hesitate to ask if there is anything else we can do.

But the week's not over!  I ran up to get my nails done and the only open parking spot was next to a state trooper’s car.  I have always wondered if the world goes by in slow-motion to cops since everyone sees them and immediately slows down.  Sorry sidetracked… I carefully pulled in and made sure I was perfectly centered between the lines.  Since my tags weren’t expired, I went inside and saw my friend Julie.  Fun Fact: Julie used to get her nails done by Lorena Bobbitt (the sister that chopped off her husband’s wiener and tossed it in a field because he screwed up her Starbucks order). 

When my nails were dry, I opened up the door and casually informed Julie, “I am NOT going to hit the cop car.”  The cop was walking out of a restaurant at the same time and thought I said “I hit the cop car.”  He made me stand there while he carefully walked around and inspected his car for any dents.  Instead of coming to my defense, Julie proceeded to laugh her ass off at me from inside the nail salon while sending me a barrage of texts.  Whatever, the cop did not even see the twenty illegal immigrants I had in my car and for Julie’s penance, I convinced her to buy her daughter a hamster because “they are hardly any work and sleep all night.”  Oh yeah, and they eat their babies.  My bad.

Annnnnd since we are discussing my “friends”… my writer friend Stacie critiqued my manuscript for me over the weekend.  She is the one who organized a water and food drive when Colorado was going up in flames last summer.  We were driving to drop off all the donations for the poor, exhausted firefighters who had been working around the clock to contain these horrific fires when her air-conditioner stopped working in her car and she whined “Oh My Gawd, it is SO hot and miserable in here.  I cannot take it.”  We were both quiet for a second before we started shrieking in laughter because we are assholes, that’s why. 

Anyhow, she offered her insight on my manuscript in a methodical way as not to shatter my delicate esteem: “Dude, the flow sucked ass.  Fix it and take a writing class.”  I bought her a box full of tiny plants called a “fairy garden” for her kindness.  She sent me a text saying she was going to regift it to her husband for Valentine’s Day.  I texted her back with: “OMG! What a great idea!  I totally did not realize men would rather have fairy gardens instead of blow jobs!  Mike is going to be thrilled!!!” 

I love all my sistas.  Have a great week angel faces.  Love to each and every one of you!  XO