Kristen is my Tequila. And also, the train went over the cliff again.

There is an order to everything in this universe, friendship is no exception.  In every adequately balanced friendship there is one person who is a little bit off their rocker, because that keeps shit interesting, and another person who keeps the chaos under control.  The second person isn’t boring, they just know when to hit the breaks to keep the crazy train from driving off a cliff.

Growing up my bff Tricia was that person.  There is no way I could ever count how many times in our 17 years of living in the same state that we came up with crazy and fantastic adventures, but then when I screamed something like “…and then we’ll all go to Canada!  Get in the car!” or “…and I’ll going to elope with him tonight!” or “…which is when I realized the only reason I can’t fly is because I haven’t been jumping from high enough!” she would counter by telling me that was basically the worst plan in the history of the world, because it always was.  There is a very good chance I would be dead or in prison if it weren’t for that little ball of Mexican sunshine.I always believed her because I understood and respected the nature of our relationship.  Tricia isn’t boring at all, not even a little bit, and we did plenty of insane things that I hope to god my children never do when they’re the age we were… but she possesses an ability to see when the train is heading for the cliff that I just do not and hits the breaks so it doesn’t.

Kristen and I have been friends for more than six years now and we should have known something wasn’t working right the first time we really hung out not at a gym.  We went out to dinner at CPK, the conversation veered in a weird direction, and suddenly,

And while a “I know when to stop the train” friend would have said something like this,
she said this instead,
And from there it was like a ridiculous insanity spiral.
And when we finally found a tattoo place that was open that late on a random Tuesday night and the man inside told us he’d just started, he was only the apprentice, and he really had no idea what he was doing we said,
Just kidding!  That’s what a pair of adequately balanced friends would said.  We said this.
And that is how we got the worst tattoos in the history of the world.And the last six years have been more or less a string or stories exactly like that.  Most not involving tattoos, but an surprising amount have.  If I had a quarter for every time one of us has yelled at our husband “Why do you guys keep leaving us together unsupervised?!?!  You should know better by now!” I would have enough quarters to pay for our next barely thought through piece matching of body art.So this morning Kristen came over to drink a million shots of espresso with me so we could crack out and clean the bajeezus out of our respective homes (here’s a picture of it)

att collage
…and she told me about finding her neighbors pets outside and putting them back in their house for them because the door was unlocked my first thought, and subsequently the first thing to come out of my mouth, was
to which she responded
And with that the train was off, speeding perilously toward the cliff with nobody around to stop it.Flash forward 20 minutes and we had 100% convinced each other that OBVIOUSLY her neighbors had been murdered, the fact that their car wasn’t there was OBVIOUSLY an indicator that their murderers had stolen it, and since she’d put their pets back in the house the cat was probably eating their poor dead faces as we spoke.  And because there was nothing more depressing then imagining them rotting away in their poorly lit town home we OBVIOUSLY needed to do something.

The only problem was we both try really hard not to come into contacts with dead bodies unless we absolutely have to, and her husband Frank refused to go into the neighbor’s house and look for their bodies for us.We thought he should do it because he’s a man and there for dead bodies would be less traumatizing for him (Kristen’s reasoning) and because he secretly may not have a soul (my reasoning).  He thought he should not do it because he thought we were being completely ridiculous and nothing was wrong.

So we did what any reasonable, rational people would do.

Kristen called the police.

And while we chatted as she waited for the officer to arrive I suddenly realized, your neighbors are totally not dead.  They probably went to a movie or something and the door didn’t latch completely when they left.  The car is gone because they had to drive in it to get where ever they were going.

So, after promising Kristen I would get her totally crunk if her neighbors actually were dead… because that’s just good friend behavior… I was telling her about my friendship theory about the train and whatnot.

Kristen:  “But we’re not really like that… because we’re different types of crazy.”

Me:  “How so?”

Kristen:  “Idk…. trying to find a reason for you not to friend dump me.”

Me:  “Tequila shots: Should I do them less? Do they often end in embarrassing ways? Do too many of them make me forget how to act like an adult and/or keep all my clothes on? Absolutely. But I’m never going to stop, nobody can make me.  Kristen Fiorucci, you are my tequila shot.”


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