I have a bwest fwiend.
Her name is Nanners, and she lives on the other bloody side of the country.
When everything in the world goes to crap, she’s always on the other end of the phone, either to provide support or to nod in commiseration.
Sometimes she gives me a kick in the head when I need it.
But the reason why she’s my bwestest fwiend is because we can have conversations like this, and neither of us find it particularly deranged:
Me: Blah, blah, boob surgery, blah, blah. Fuck! You know what I could use a friend to do for me right now?
Me: Wash my hair. I can’t wash it myself because I can’t lift my arms that high.
Nanners: If I were there, I would totally wash your hair for you.
Me: I know you would.
Nanners: I’d pick the bugs out.
Me: Like a Bonabo Chimp? *mimes picking lice, even though Nanners can’t see this on the other side of the phone*
Nanners: I’d be your Bonabo.
Me: I’d eat your lice too.
*everyone convulses with laughter*
How many people would eat your pretend chimp lice for you? That’s a real friendship.
(You can catch Nanners on her own blog: Disgracing The Nation.)