Wednesday, May 26, 2010

blondes have more fun.

this is how you know someone loves your ass: when she is willing to put a horrific and abysmal picture of her drunken, shiny self at your birthday party at carnivale last year making the most awfulest, hideous face and throwing up the devil horns to the lords of ROCK in that shirt that she always wears yet always hates the minute she sees it in a picture on the GODDAMNED INTERNET because you look so happy and smiley and cute.

i'm pretty sure that you can't see my other hand because it is hiding a glass full of liquor underneath the table, because even when i am shitfaced i still somehow maintain the cognizance and good sense to try to hide my rampant alcoholism when there is a camera present. can't be photographed in front of a table full of half-empty cocktails. this whole facebook age is fucking my party game UP. there is a picture of me from my birthday last year doing a shot while holding two nearly empty beer bottles in my free hand. jesus. back in the olden days you could make a drunken ass out of your dirtbag self without worrying that the bitch you hated the most in high school will be up at the crack of dawn laughing at your stupid pictures and calling everybody you know so they can laugh, too. then when you finally drag yourself awake fourteen hours later at the crack of DRUNK and vomit up all the misery and regret before showering off the shame and self-hatred and slump down at the computer you want to KILL YOURSELF because that hot dude you used to like left a mean comment on a photo of you ASLEEP at a fucking DISCO.

i mean, not that i would know anything about that. moving on.

i know i spend a lot of time writing about how much i hate everything and how everyone should die, and for the most part that is 100% the truth. but right now i'm going to bottle up all that hate in the hopes that it kills me sooner rather than later and put my knives away and be nice for a fucking change.

this is my best friend in the entire world and the love of my fucking life, and today is her goddamned birthday. i'm too poor to throw this bitch a parade, so instead sarah gets a blog post devoted to her awesome amazingness. (and a hundred marriage proposals to follow, i'm sure. you bastards.) she is the most smart, the most in tune, the most honest, the most loyal, the most hilarious. and the least snotty, the least rude, the least judgmental. in other words, the fucking BEST.

this is the only person for whom i will stand outside for any length of time, be it boiling beneath the sun at pride last summer (my skin almost cracked in half) or sitting for two hours in the rain at ravinia while bloated out of my mind on steroids because i was so fucking sick at the time. i am loathe to be photographed anywhere, at any time, by anyone, ESPECIALLY next to this gorgeous bitch who makes me look like shrek or some shit whenever i stand next to her, but i love this picture because it is indicative of so much about our friendship. i was at death's doorstep (note that my face is twice its usual bigness because i had literally JUST WALKED OUT of the hospital and was on 80mg of pred at the time; it took more courage than i'm equipped with to post this horrifying shit) yet i still got on the metra and dragged my sorry ass out to the lawn because she loves john legend so much. we just fucking love each other, and there really is no better feeling than that.

we watch tv "together," (she in her place, i in mine, televisions tuned to the same station), we finish each other's sentences, like all the same shit, HATE ALL THE SAME PEOPLE, sleep in the same bed, talk shit about dudes, terrorize kittens, and every other fucking thing you can imagine. i met her six or seven years ago when she came to work with us at bramer, and it was love at first bite. i am the silliest piece of shit that ever lived, and from day one it was giggles and jokes and trickery and it hasn't stopped since.

i changed my name in her phone to "fuck you" while she was in the bathroom one day, then spent the entire afternoon blowing her shit up. in turn, she wrote "I SUCK DICK" in giant letters on my fresh values (pffft) card after stealing my wallet then put it back in my bag, and the next time i was at dominicks and the young dude ringing up my groceries asked if i wanted to save a few bucks i handed it to him and he looked at me all funny and then called his manager. bwahahahasshole! i had no fucking idea. i almost got escorted out of the store! that shit was genius.

we are an unlikely duo, i know. i fucking have eyes. sheesh. she is made of sunshine and kisses and i'm made of the black stuff at the bottom of a coffee pot mixed with stomach acid and a little bit of dog poo. but she's my fucking soulmate, man. if you believe in that sort of silly thing. no one else on earth GETS me the way sarah does. she has an innate understanding of everything i am and everything i feel and i am lucky to have found her, even if it means that every single time we go out i sit in the corner with a handful of beers while EVERY DUDE IN THE BAR comes up to holler at her. jerks.

and aside from all that she means to me, this bitch is DOPE. she breeds belgian malinois with whom she does french ring (that shit is TERRIFYING, look at that bitch's teeth!), she has a sociology degree, she's in nursing school, she has ridiculously excellent hair, she eats like a fucking linebacker and has the metabolism of a hummingbird, and her best friend is this stupid asshole who writes this dumb blog you might want to lower yourself to read one of these days. meh. don't bother. it's a waste of time.

happy birthday, baby. i love you more than anything that's not a taco.

love, keevy.

if only she had a penis.