On Friendship

Friendship, true friendship, is being called at 1 a.m. on a relatively idle Friday after waking up at 2:30 p.m. and not showering or really doing anything all day, and then being told to come to a crazy party.

Friendship is then arriving and being told to look like you're leaving and then park in the shadows and waiting to have someone sent out for you, being greeted by two friends, one urinating and one excitedly telling you that their is some random girl inside who got incredibly excited when she realized she knew you and quote: "Wants to stick her finger in your ass."

Yes, dear readers, real friendship is hanging out and playing beer pong for an hour without anyone winning, calling the game quits and then ragging on your INCREDIBLY OBVIOUSLY INDUBITABLY GAY COUSIN all night long, and convincing your hot former coworker and her hot friend that, yes, because of that gay cousin you are now her hot friend's ex-step-second-cousin-in-law, while performing the mental balancing act of who you really wanna sleep with more. Also, it's watching the end of Death to Smoochy on cable when everyone leaves the party proper.

Indeed, friendship is a wonderful thing. At least it was tonight. Tomorrow, friendship will likely be a the bottom of Jergins and a box of tissues. Or a puppy. Either/or.