Do People Have Issues Opening Car Doors? (Besides Me?)

I have no idea the practical use of this, or why you would spend FORTY DOLLARS on it.

Random Story From Tuesday: In coming back from the Bros N Ho dinner (in which Birv goes to dinner with her two brothers), I paralell parked my car relatively near a young, short tree.

Since I had stopped by the grocery store on the way back, I had some items I needed to get from my passenger side. The tree's reach is longer than I thought, and I pretty much have to wrestle my way through low-hanging branches to get to the passenger door. Basically standing in the middle of this stupid tree, I open the car door, and move my head back. The tree, that I know is right there because I am standing in it, still somehow manages to startle me as I'm opening the door, and I jump and rapidly jerk my head forward... INTO THE CAR DOOR I'M OPENING.

With the amount of damage I do to myself on a daily basis, I thankfully no longer bruise easily, so there's no mark on my face, but I am slightly worried that my left side of my face still hurts.

GUESS WHERE I'M GOING TOMORROW?!?!

EEEEEEEEE!!! I'm so excited. Storytime! Ahhh London... a place of mystery, a place of wonder, a place where you can STILL see Cats.

Which we did. And then bought the soundtrack on tape. And played it in our room all the time. One particularly giddy night, BFF and I were skipping down the hall of our dorm singing Jellicle Cats. I wish we could say we were drunk or high, but we sure weren't. Just made of awesome.

Our dorm was weird, and had 2 steps up in the middle of the hallway, then 2 steps down about 20 feet away for no reason. As BFF and I tried to skip up the steps, I made it and kept dancing down the hall. BFF... didn't. I turned, because she was no longer by me, and watched in horror as BFF pinballed down the hallway: hitting one wall, and then, desperately trying to right herself, caroming off the other, only to fall in great somersaulting fashion.

I swear TO THIS DAY it happened in slow motion. BFF's eyes never left mine; her face horrified and her head shaking as if to say, "There's no way I can get out of this one." I did nothing to help her... I was too far away. And laughing WAY too hard.

Moral of the story? Never dance down the hall in your shower shoes.

Don't feel too bad for BFF. Later that night, during our only round of blood-sport Frisbee with our friend Gabe, I took a frisbee to the face (I'm not... coordinated). I also fell off the 3 foot garden wall as I was trying to make a super-sweet jump to get the frisbee that had fallen over the side. Didn't quite stick the landing.

Hazards of Body Piercings.

Ha ha this picture. We never met that guy before! And yet he was so willing to pose with us for stupid photos. Also... these are the same overalls I was wearing as the last picture... different day. That may even be the same shirt.

Anyway:

BFF never really willingly does embarrassingly stupid things. She leaves that to me. Most of the stories I find hilarious about BFF are things that happen TO her... such as the time (Freshman year, yet again! man... good times) she got her eyebrow pierced.

Getting the piercing was never really the issue. Like any rebellious 18 year old, it was almost her duty to get it (as were the tattoos we got the next year). The real story begins when it became noticeably infected... like dark red streaks running down her face infected.

Let me explain a little bit about BFF. She's very precise, very organized, and very detail-oriented (sidebar: it's very helpful for those with a scattered brain to have someone like this in your life.). You give her directions, she. will. follow. them. So when BFF got directions from Iron Age about keeping her piercing clean and infection-free... you better believe that she followed them TO THE LETTER. Still, despite twice daily cleanings, turnings, and all that other crap you have to do with metal in your face, BFF's eyebrow got super-duper infected.

We've discussed the annoyance of the gift of sight on this blog before. Let me give you, verbatim, the conversation that BFF had with every single person that looked at her:

"Ooh... what happened there?"

"My piercing got infected."

"Hmm... looks like it really hurts!"

"Well, it sure doesn't feel great..."

"Have you been washing it?"

"...yeah."

This happened for about 4 days, until one cold fall day, BFF had enough. Coming into the cafeteria from a late class (Remember late classes? Remember cafeterias? Ours had a make-your-own waffle bar. Delicious.), the conversation with someone at our table started out the normal way:

"Ooh, what happened there?"

"My piercing got infected."

"Hmm... Looks like it really hurts!"

"It doesn't feel great..."

"Have you been washing it?"

Let me interject here with another note about BFF. It takes a long time, but when BFF snaps, it's not pretty. Unless you aren't the person she snaps on. Then it's fucking hilarious.

"NO! I'VE BEEN PISSING ON MY HANDS AND RUBBING IT IN!" *Smacks caf table really fucking hard then walks away*

Honestly, one of the funniest things I've ever heard her say.

BFF Request!!

If BFF asks for something, I do it. So when BFF asked for a Storytime Countdown until I visit for New Moon, I was only happy to oblige. We're pretty funny, so I think everyone will enjoy it. If not, well, too bad. It's my blog and I'll post what I want.

Sooooo.... Storytime! We'll start at the beginning- the day BFF and I first met.

Imagine a tender, innocent Birv (Well. More innocent than I am now, anyway. Shut up! Why are you laughing?), her parents just having left after moving her into the dorm. My college fantasy of giggle-filled, slumber party nights with a popular, bouncy ponytailed, cheerleader-type roommate to bring me out of my cynical shell had just been dashed when my roommate Nancy showed up to our room (toting only two laundry bags of clothes and full-size fridge, by the by), and I honestly thought she was her brother. "Oh hey, you must be with Nancy. Aren't you a nice brother to bring that fridge up here?" "I AM Nancy." "oh...." (Not sure where my fantasy came from, as I knew that my alma mater was a gay haven from the college visit. My hag training started EARLY). Anyway, after a brief introduction, Nancy went off- and I'm not making any sort of stereotype joke, I swear to god it's true- to her very first softball practice, and I was left in my room alone.

Webster has some decent dorms- rather than have communal showers in the halls, the rooms are set up suite-style, with two rooms to a bathroom. Not to get overly familiar, but you know how when you're traveling, you're digestion gets a little... off? Well. The time comes for me. I gotta go. I had seen the blonde girl next door moving in with her parents, but, being too shy to do any more than wave, I hadn't spoken to her yet. But her door to the bathroom is open.

Seriously? This is my introduction? Awesome. But... I GOTTA GO. So I can either slam the door in her face without any explanation, or I can tell her why I'm closing the door. My thought process? How bitchy is that girl that just shut the door for no reason?! So the first words I ever speak to BFF are these: "I'm really sorry, and I want to make sure that you know that it's not because I don't want to get to know you, but I'm closing your bathroom door. Because, well, I have to go poop." (Yes, I'm a master of the overshare.)

The reason I know BFF and I were meant to be BFF's? Her response: "I'm so glad you're the first to poop here, because I didn't want it to have to be me!"