We've Been Forced To Make Some Cutbacks

{the following rant is directed at a real-life "friend" of mine}

"We here at Kung-Fu Jellyfish Attacks, Inc, feel that the service you, {name omited} are providing as "Female Friend" can be rendered much more economically with a Coconut Cream Pie. Actually, the pie started yesterday and is doing just a bang-up job. Now, if you'll just sign this little waiver stating that you will in no way try to influence the Coconut Cream Pie, I beleive we are done here. Oh, and we appreciate your service with us, and wish you the best of luck in your future life-sucking endeavors. Good day, {name omited}.

In short, you, {name omited} as my friend, suck big hairy donkey balls. Get out."

Anyone else ever been the "new-kid" in a place and found yourself latched onto the first "friend" that would have you? No matter how much they sucked, generally speaking? I knew this girl was bad news. My first clue was her preference for chasing chemically dependent married cooze. My second clue was how much she enjoyed pulling 'lil ol me into her never-ending drama. There's no drama like lesbian drama. SHEESH!!!! Most people's final straw would've been when she led me, UNKNOWING, into a place where I could've easily been murdered, just for how much this one chick's husband hates her. (I know it's hard to follow-- but really, all you need to picture is Alabama trailer trash at it's finest) SPRINGER! SPRINGER! I got out of the ordeal with only a busted out windshield. Yep. This peach had ME do the driving on this trip. Nice, huh? I had it replaced to the tune of 315 dollars. I gave her multiple FREE ways to pay me back for this, but she is too self-absorbed to think that maybe I find that important. Derrrrr... And can you beleive, we still hung out, even after that??? Stupid on me-- right thar.
But, the final straw was a few weeks ago when we were gonna chill by my pool. And I was gonna grill salmon and make strawberry daquiries. The only catch was that these daquiries were gonna be non-alcoholic. I had a ton of salmon thawed out. Robin and I waited until after it got dark-- after alllllll the bugs in Alabama came out and made grilling an impossibility-- and then gave up on her. She didn't even call.
Now, for any of my real life friends, you know that when I say "I'm cookin"-- the appropriate response is to drop everything and run to my house. The skillet is my easle. I grew up without cable, internet, a cell phone, MTV, and we didn't even have a vcr until I was in high school. I can't tell you a single Gun'sNRoses lyric or even a song title. I can, however, tell you the temp at which olive oil will scorch, and the difference between a scallion, a shallott, and a green onion. I'm a fat girl. Food is my thing. To diss me when it comes to food is unforgiveable for any reason. And when their is a pool and a blender and the opportunity to hang out with my charming self???? Her services as my friend are now being met by a pie. At least I know the pie is shallow and thoughtless from the get-go. The pie also smells better. Cigarettes are bad, mmmkay?


So, to make a painfully long story short, she finally texts me last night and says she wants to go out. (Really, that's code for she wants to get drunk and let me sit by myself but she'll have a sober ride home. Yay-- fun for me!)

Mmmmmm. Pie.

Such sweet vindication.