Piper of Love tagged me for this meme a few weeks ago, and, um, gah. I have done this in some variation so many freaking times I can't count them all. Every time, it has been a stretch of Gymnastic Proportions. Dude, I am so very very boring. As luck would have it, though, I totally missed my lusciously awesome friend Marge's birthday last week, as I do every stinking year, and then she totally bitch-slapped me for even doing these memes in the first place. Really, click the link. She's, like, the stinking funniest person ALIVE. Also, there are lemmings. LEMMINGS. Did you know I love lemmings? Like, they're my favorite animal ever.
And so, in some sort of twisted making-it-up-to-her-ness, I am dedicating this weeks' meme to Marge, without whom my life would be a sad little shell of an existence. Whom I do not deserve, in any small way, but who has stuck by me faithfully for 16 long years now, through thick and thin, and who is beautiful and cherished and rare and glorious. Baby, I love you. So bad.
6 Random Things
1. She is the most clever person. Ever. Period. She gives the very best birthday presents in the history of birthday presents. Like, she makes you shit. For example, one year she made me a heating pad. Sounds average? It's not. It's got this funky fabric, and is totally all-natural, and still smells awesome after God only knows how many years. Another year, she made me an herb garden. The Donor promptly killed that herb garden while I was in Durango, but still...she made me one. And then, there is this.
Why one Earth would someone give another someone a box of sugar packets for their birthday, you ask? I'll tell you. Marge and I have a small collection of sugar packets. Each time we had a meal out together, we'd write each other something terribly clever and/or witty on a sugar packet. Turns out, we were both saving them. And then, this one year, she gives me a puzzle all on sugar packets. Like, 2/3 of that box is just plain old sugar packets, but some of them are numbered, and in the right order, they form a message. A secret message. A tale of our love. I don't even want to think about how many days it took her to pull that one off.
2. She is cloaked in mystery. Marge is not what Marge seems she is. If you ever met her, she'd be in a business suit. She's got just the right amount of handshake. Her heels are never too high. Her hair is always done, but not so done you think she's arrogant about it. Do not be fooled. Marge? Rock and rolls all night. Parties like it's 1999. Her milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard. Also, she's, shall we say, mechanically inclined?
Note the greasy hands. You should see the collection of Jeeps that she and Homer have. Oh wait, you can. This post right here is just about her boring old day, like any other day, replacing her fucking brakes on her car. I think I'm pretty tough because if I absolutely had to, I could fumble through changing my own oil.
3. She's Random. The CLF. The Colorful Liberation Front. Without revealing too much, in the interest of protecting the innocent, let me just say this...high school, blank sticker sheets, Sharpie's, one pissed off principal, and an uncredited legacy that stands to this very day. Someday, Marge will tell you more. If she chooses.
4. And she just gets more random. Along those lines is Marge's penchant (do you even do this anymore) of renaming bodies of water. Many a morning saw us up before dawn, scowering our corner of suburbia, searching for some remote, untouched body of water, and giving it a proper christening and a worthy name. This is how it goes: You steal (you must steal them, or the magic is lost) a few liquid coffee creamers from some unsuspecting 7-11. You then find a body of water. You search the shore-line for 3 perfect rocks, perfect being a subjective thing here. You stand at the edge of the water and spill out your coffee creamer in a perfectish circle, some of the circle in the water and some of the circle by your feet. You then announce the NEW name of the body of water (for example, the Atlantic Ocean was once renamed Lake Cretan by a 19 year old Mr Lady at Wildwood.) In some order I can't rememeber, you throw each rock in the water, each one symbolizing something grand and serene. And that's it. God damn it, we are dorks.
5. Her mother was right. Just because it will never not crack me up, I'm going to mention this one. When I met Marge, she was, well, psycho-Christian. Not your normal Christian. I was, too. Bygones. Her mother was afraid of me and her other friend, Josh. Because we listened to Sonic Youth and Genesis. (PS, I love her mother like I love few other things. I'm not talking smack, it's just FACT.) Anyway, this is only relevant because my dear Marge, my friend in Christ, somehow managed to have a kid, out of wedlock, and is now currently living totally in sin with Homer. Maybe your mom had a point about us and our evil influence, dude.
6. She puts the Oy in Loyal. You know how you go to high school, and you suffer through it, and then you leave and you never, ever look back? Like LOT never look back? Not Marge. Marge is still, 15 years later, totally BFF's with the same group of people she went to high school with. I am lucky enough to be lumped in with Josh and Turtle and Eddi and Janna and Molly, who are all some of the most amazing, talented, flat out wicked cool people you'll ever meet. She is the glue that has kept us all together. Heck, Josh and I weren't even friends anymore, by a long shot, but Marge did what Marge does and now I have my friend back, and I think he doesn't hate me too much anymore. :)
So, Marge, I am sorry that I suck so very much and that I missed your birthday, again, and that I am a sheep who does memes, and I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me someday. Because, without you, I'd be something very sad and very different. In my very best weepy Tom Cruise voice I say to you, dude, you complete me.
Yours in Christ,