Friend Series #1

So I have decided to introduce you all to some friends of mine. They are all very dear to me, and close to my heart. So I decided to tell them in the only way I can. By making fun of them in my blog.

While trying to figure out who to start this series with, I began thinking about some moments of hilarity that happened last night at the bar, and besides a new face who is quickly working her way into my heart, there was one woman who stood out amongst the rest.

She is short (er than me) funny, can do the beaker face, but can't talk while she does it. Has a habit of accidentally flashing her nethers when she's really tired, and has the most gorgeous dreadlocks know to (this) man.

Her name is Whittney, we like to dance, we like to make faces at each other, and we like the awkward sexual tension that will forever remain unresolved between us.

Whittney was dating this guy when I first met her, I ended up living with "This Guy", so I got to see a lot of Whittney. (No, no, you pervs, remember where I said unresolved sexual tension?) Whittney was the first person I met here that I felt actually comfortable with, and, of the twenty or so people I met that night, the only one I still talk to. And surprisngly she still talks to me, 'cause when I was introduced, I was sporting my boxers, some strange nightie thing, and a black stripe across my face.

Let me explain that now: It was a shadow performance (where live actors act out the movie playing on the screen behind them) of Rocky Horror. I had never been to one before, so I was a "Rocky Virgin" which has so many levels of weird in it. Anyway, I was going with my ex-girlfriend, and she was getting all dressed up for the occasion. I love dressing up, but I previously had no idea we were going to a show worthy of dressing up for. Panicking, I don't know why I do that so much, I made quick inventory of my wardrobe options. I had the clothes on my back, and apparently a nightie... Also, my ex offered a bra, but I have a wide chest.

Scrambling for an idea of something to make me "cool" like all the other kids, I stole my ex's makeup, and, thinking to myself all the while, "I'm an actor!" this is bad, "I know what I'm doing!" I didn't.

Why, oh God why, didn't someone stop me.

I think I was trying to be a raccoon, and ended up screwing something up so I just said, "Meh," and made it a big black stripe.

And then I took off my pants. Which always seems to be a part of most of my stories.

Also, I had painted my whole face white, which wiped off when I ran into a wall.

I do that occasionally.

Anyway, When everyone else at the strange party sort of steered clear of me a little, and my ex promptly shook me off her leg saying something like, "Quit following me, I'm trying to hang out with my friends." I went to hide in the corner.

Enter Whittney!

She was holed up in the corner doing art, with coffee. No, no. She was painting with coffee. As in using coffee. IT BLEW MY MIND!

I had to be her friend. Somehow I would make this woman like me!

So, using my infallible skills of flirting, and friend making, I followed her around like a lost puppy for the remainder of the evening.

I also remember her saying a really big word and looking at me in astonishment when I looked confused, and saying "You do know what that means right?"

Pause.

"Oh yea! For sure, me and...that go way back!"

I lied.

She bought it, or more likely found me cute and endearing and just added me to her collection of crazy, senile friends.

My friend Whittney collects "old" people.

All of her (also now all of my) friends, have something wrong with them that is akin to being at least fifty years older than we are.

I have bad knees, bad back, and memory issues.

Thomas looks like he's from the twenties.

Rob is way to charming to be anything but old.

Drea is the most adorable house wife (Also very much able to kick anyones ass) you've ever seen.

And Jonah is...well...Jonah. I'll write a post about him later.

I mentioned that Whittney does art. (She's amazing, http://whittneyastreeter.daportfolio.com/) One of my favorite things about her is that she'll do all this painting with weird chemicals and glues and shit, and have the windows all closed, and get attacked by what she calls "The Nap Monster."

When this happens Whittney is not available for a little while.

The first time I heard about it, she slept for like five hours, next time it was like eight, this last one was half a day.

Whittney, hun, if you're reading this, don't die. :)

Whittney is crazy people, she got in a fight with a bridge once, and as you may have guessed, lost.

But, as crazy as she is, actually, because of how crazy she is, she is one of my closest friends. Whenever I have a particularly trying day, she always makes me smile with a little "Awe, Skort.."

Thanks for being my friend, Whitt. And thanks for being alright with me using you in a blog post.

Also, I live with her father. He collects bachelors, where she collects crazies. All I know is I collect friends, and I have a lot of 'em. This is just one.

Skot/Scott