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Flakes, Impossible To Duplicate July 25, 2013

basementAnd why would you? I want to wish a very Happy Birthday to my best friend of 33 years, Brandy. (Disclaimer – yes, she still admits to knowing me and being my friend.)

I know I met Brandy when I was about seven, but I don’t remember much of it. I just remember that if I wanted to get out of my house and go somewhere else she was about nine or ten houses away, and I was almost always welcome. We grew up together. We went through everything together, from the first time I kissed a boy, to hanging out in a camper when it was well over 100 degrees (just to avoid our parents), a leaky basement that became my home when my youngest sister was born, Maid of Honor in my first wedding (that didn’t last a year), her family moving to Louisville (I felt like I lost her), later looking her up and finding out that she was literally five minutes away from where I lived. We’ve always been together, she has never left my mind or my side when it really counted. There is no one else that I could ever say that about.

That’s why she’s my best friend.

She’s also married to a great guy (that I introduced her to – by the way.) I suppose my only regret about our relationship is that I wasn’t invited to her wedding. It was a complicated situation, and I understand why things happened the way they did. I wish it could have been different, I would have really liked to have been there. It was the best outcome of an impossible situation, she’s happy, that’s all that matters. That’s all that has ever mattered to me.

Brandy is a person that I’m proud to call my best friend. I mean, come on, I’m kind of a jerk. I’ve been less than worthy of this friendship many times, Brandy has stuck with me, that means a lot more than I could ever express to her.

So I think I should thank Brandy in a “proper” way. So here goes 33ish years of dirt that I won’t explain, but Brandy knows what I’m talking about.

1. Fly swatters are a multi-purpose item
2. Ramen is good
3. Being the oldest isn’t always the best, but it prepares you for life
4. Plaid shirt are never really in style at our age
5. You can light a cigarette off of a space heater
6. You can watch a movie over a thousand times and it never gets old
7. Distance doesn’t matter
8. Popping zits can be fun
9. Spray paint is good for the soul
10. Licking the stuff off of Cool Ranch Doritoes isn’t weird
11. Bible papers don’t make good joints
12. Purple Passion
13. You can dress up any dress
14. Best friends will only tell you the truth, it doesn’t matter if you want to hear it
15. We’re only a text away
16. We’re not perfect, and we never really planned on it
17. You were the only person my mother ever believed
18. Skateboarders make horrible boyfriends
19. You can light a wall on fire with Aqua Net and a lighter
20. You can loose people too soon
21. You can forget what’s important, but remember before it’s too late
22. We’re parents??
23. You can get lost coming home from a concert
24. Fuzzy navels aren’t as spectacular as they sound
25. ET phone home
26. Restaurants aren’t the optimal place to grow up
27. When someone tells you “it’s a bad idea” you should probably listen
28. Sump pumps in Broad Ripple suck ass
29. Your braces made you more awesome
30. When I hug you I don’t want to let go
31. You believed in me when no one else ever did
32. You’re a great person/friend/mother
33. Let’s hang on for another 30 years or so, we’ll be crazy as shit, our kids
will make fun of us and we won’t care. That’s pretty awesome.

Thank you so much for being my best friend, I love you very much!


No Problem, I’ll Just Call My Dad August 31, 2012

Mr. D and I were very excited that my Jeep was finally going to be paid off in January. That would mean that we would have no car payments – zero – awesome. Anyone that hasn’t had a car payment in a while knows that is a small victory for us multi-car families. It gives you a little extra breathing room with the holidays approaching. Dreaming of vacations, or just a long weekend was definitely in our plans. We were looking forward to it. Seriously.

So January the Jeep is paid off. Mr. D was in an accident recently that didn’t do a lot of damage to the 2001 Toyota. I mean, what else could you do besides get on top of it and smash it up with a sledge-hammer? It serves it’s purpose. Getting Kam to school and Mr. D to and from work. We did decide it was time for some maintenance on the van. Mr. D suggested a tune up, I said whatever. I have no idea what that means nor do I care as long as the friggin thing runs ok?

Mr. D took the van to a shop early this morning. I knew since he hadn’t called me by noon it couldn’t be good news. So I called him around three when I was in line to pick up Kam from school. I was like “hear from the car people?” I could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn’t good news. He had actually just gotten off the phone with them. He said that the service manager said it would cost more money to fix the van than to just get a new car. (This is not a dealership telling us this.)

You know that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach?

Just then I looked up and my almost paid off (in the car line with all of the BMW’s and Mercedes) Jeep is smoking from underneath the hood. I look and the coolant level is on high and doesn’t look like it’s budging. I frantically said to Mr. D “my car is smoking.” “What” is his answer. He suggested turning the Jeep off while it was polluting the air of the convertible next to me. Starting it up when I had to and pulling it over somewhere to be out-of-the-way of traffic and he in his hoopty van would be down in about 45 minutes to have a look.

I hung up and thought I’ll just call my Dad. Then I thought, he’s not going to answer, and I just started to sob. My Dad was my car guy, he was my problem guy, he was my “hell baby, it will be fine” guy. That guy is gone, and it hurts like hell.

I could feel Kameron’s eyes on me and knew I had to find some kind of solution. I wiped my tears and headed to Walmart that isn’t took far down the road. I don’t know much about cars, what I do know my Dad taught me. Perhaps it was divine intervention but I walked in and said “my car is overheating, I think it needs some antifreeze.” A younger Walmart associate stood at the counter and said I’m sorry mam, but we can’t touch your radiator. An older gentleman was also standing there. He must have seen that my eyes were blood-shot from crying and that my mascara had traveled down my face in epic proportion.

He instructed me to open my hood and look for a plastic compartment in my car, it should say hot/cold. He warned me not to touch the metal cap until it cooled down. If the levels were low I should purchase some antifreeze. I quickly went out to my Jeep opened the hood, sure enough, my levels were low. I touched the metal cap and it was hot – so I grabbed The Criterion (thank God for the Catholics to send out their weekly useless paper) to shield my hand from getting burnt. Poured in the antifreeze, problem solved.

Now we have to shop for a car. One of Johnno’s favorite things to do. He loved giving the car salesmen a hard time. Negotiating prices, he loved it. Now knowing that we have to get a car, I can hear him now. He would say “baby, you don’t know shit from shinola about buying a car.” “Now let your poor old Dad take care of this one for you.”