|Kristin and Jane are wearing hats. I want someone to pay attention to me.|
But anyway, when it comes down to it, I just really appreciate the company of a nice lady. And I got to go to Missoula last week--which, in itself is a geographic hub on my map of magical lady love--but it was especially good because I got to fly there with Catherine Meeks, one of my very favorite humans. Catherine's husband Alex once said "you crazy people aren't happy unless your souls have met on the astral plane." Which is true; me and Catherine get some next level shit talked about if given the time: the radioactive mice buried underneath Niagra Falls kind of blends in with yogic financial management and the socio-political climatic arc of the Star Wars movies. And, of course, we also talk about people we know and how they be so crazy. On this trip, we had to switch seats in the airplane because our necks got cricks in them from talking so much.
Anyway, I don't think I could be happy if I didn't have lady friends like Catherine. Or Kerry, who just started a blog for my birthday because she loves me: it's called The Poopy Scoop and it's hilarious and you should read it. Or my friend Susan who wrote me the other night to tell me she had an insight that we were past-life sisters who ran a pecan weevil farm. Or Jane and Kristin because we were there for each others' adolescences, and oh god it was so ugly. And My Girl Audrey because I could tell her The Worst Thing I've Ever Done, and she'd be like, "that sounds reasonable, what else you got?" And Mary and Vicki and Katherine, who I hope are present when I need an emergency civilian-administered leg amputation sans anesthesia, because I'd trust them to do it. And Becca and Frances who are sweet fairy spirits and Missy Sue who is truly, magically bizarre and wise and Magdi who can make me laugh like I'm being exorcized. And Genevieve! Jess! Kiki! And there are more! MORE.
But the problem here is, that last paragraph looks like it was lifted from Dolly Parton's autobiography, which, yes, I've read, and as much as I love Dolly P., the book's actually pretty boring because she mostly just talks about people you don't know and never says anything mean about them. Well, the part where she falls off the yacht near the Great Barrier Reef during a storm at sea and is rescued by her agent is exciting, but that's pretty much it.
My point is, nobody likes to hear you talk about people they don't know. But I'm just saying I really wish everyone had their own Genevieve because I think people would sleep better. Genevieve's really nice. You would like her.