My friend Amy calls me just about every day in the morning. She plays it off as "I'm just calling to say hi," but really, I think she's using me for my ability to make her laugh. I enjoy the attention, so I don't say anything.
She called me this morning and the following conversation ensued:
Amy: I love slash hate you right now!
Amy: Because I just visited your new journal and I saw dooce.com linked on it, and I was thinking, oh, what's this website? I clicked on it and...
Me: I know! Magic, right?
Amy: I literally have been reading it for three hours, thinking, how could she have not told me about this website??
Me: I DID tell you!
Amy: I need to start listening to you more.
A little later...
Me: That's why I haven't posted on my blog in a week, because nothing funny has happened, and I only want to write about funny things.
Amy: Funny things happen all the time.
Me: Yeah, but I'm not creative enough to realize it.
Amy: Yes you are. You know what you should write about?
Amy: You should write about how our answer to a bad day is a shot and a pitcher of beer. That's real healthy.
She is referring to this past Saturday... when the following conversation ensued:
Me: (answering phone) Hello?
Amy: Hi! Wait. What's wrong? Are you okay?
Amy: You and I need to be drunk right now. How soon can you get here?
...which led to the following drinks being consumed between the two of us at a bar in Manhattan Beach:
3 pitchers of beer
2 kamikaze shots
1 vodka tonic
...wherein we learned that some problems have no reasonable solution, and you have to just basically take it up the ass.