ARE YOU REALLY MY FRIEND? REALLY?
7/29/06
WOULD YOU COME TO MY FUNERAL if I dropped dead right
here, right now, in the middle of this dinner party where you are serving me barbecued chicken and cole slaw and telling me a really drawn out story about a relative of yours whom I gather is named Lucy but the point of which I missed because I haven't been listening to you since I took a bite of your goddawful noodle salad five minutes ago and completely and utterly lost my train of thought?
Sure, you're an acquaintance. And I do introduce and refer to you as my "friend." But just how important ARE we to each other? I mean, why is it I find myself here in your house, or you in mine, eating each other's noodle salad (mine the far superior noodle salad of course) and talking about things we can't even stay mentally engaged with? Bottom line is, who the heck are we to each other? Friends? Acquaintances? Commiserators by convenience?
Which leads me to ask myself, just how far away would I have to move before I completely lost touch with you? 3000 miles? Or the next county? Or the next block? Or the next room?
Another thought: if I puked on your antique Persian living room carpet right here right now would you feel sympathy or disgust? Would you want to help me or would you hire a cleaner and send me the bill?
Furthermore, oh pal-o'-mine, would I actually want to see you in the morning before you brushed your hair or teeth? And if you dropped an earring into one of my wastebaskets, would I actually want you picking through my credit card statements and overdue heating bills to retrieve it?
Another thing: would you visit me in the hospital if I was in for a very badly ingrown toenail or would it take open heart surgery to get you to even bat an eyelash in my regard? And would you be willing to drive me to the airport at 6am, feed my cats, walk my dog including picking up her poop, or even babysit overnight for my one-year-old if he just happened to be cutting teeth?
If all my friends and acquaintances were crowded in a room together and I called out that I had an itch under my left scapula, would you be the first to run and scratch it for me? Would you even be in the top ten group of volunteers?
And as I look at you now, noticing that you are still talking about this person named Lucy who apparently you find highly disagreeable for some reason that I also missed, though I am nodding and smiling and throwing in the occasional "ohmigod" and "no shit?" I wonder if you would, if I were to suddenly become fatally allergic to apples, and you had invited me to Thanksgiving dinner at your house, prepare a special non-apple pie on my behalf even though apple pie is your specialty and in 1978 you were the winner of the top apple pie prize in your hometown of Appleville, Minnesota? Would ya? Would ya?
And if I accidentally (despite the fact you had made an alternative-to-apple pie for me,) eaten a forkful of apple pie and then went into anaphylactic shock and dropped dead on your dining room floor so you felt you had no choice but go to my funeral since you were sort of the cause of it, would you then buy a new outfit to wear to my funeral or would you wear the same tired black frock I've seen you wear to countless fundraisers, galas, and benefit dinners in the past three years? And if you did buy a new dress, would it be from the sale rack at Marshall's or would you order it online from the Neiman Marcus catalogue? Would you also buy new shoes or would you wear the scuffed numbers that I croaked looking at when I was under the table on your dining room floor?
But here is the true test of friendship. If I told you a really juicy piece of gossip, I mean a really really juicy one that involved a married mutual friend, his, um, shall we say rolling pin, and a seriously nasty affliction you can only get from having oral sex with diseased farm animals, and you swore that you would never, never, never, ever tell another soul, how many drinks would you need to ingest before you spilled it? Two? Three? Four? Four and a half but only if they were very dry vodka martinis? Furthermore, how many drinks before you spilled it to everyone at the table at a dinner party where you were also serving your horrid noodle salad and prize-winning apple pie?
In any case, I really don't think we are good friends. I hate your noodle salad, I can't stay focused on a damn thing you're saying, and I'm starting to wonder why I'm wasting two seconds, much less an entire evening and years of entire evenings on you. Why do I even know you?
Wait a minute. Hold on. Did you just ask me if I lost weight recently? And did you actually just say that you adore my dress which, by the way, yes, I did buy from Neiman's online. Bless you. Okay, we're friends. Go ahead, drop dead right here right now. I'm coming to your funeral.
8/2/2006
I love your view of the world... and the crazy people and problems in it... Keep up the good work.
8/2/2006
Of COURSE I'd attend your funeral - but the real quyestion is, am I around for you while you're alive? If you choose the right cemetary, I'd even be there to help dig the grave.... On another note: the recipient of the nasty disease - spreading the rumour would be dependent on several things including: Did she catch it from ME?
8/3/2006
No man is an island. We all need them...friends that is, except needing them is not how to get them. Being a friend because of need is usually a one way steet. Being a friend out of love works for both even if you get little in return. Being a friend out of love usually requires no remuneration.
8/4/2006
Damn!!! How do you gage a friendship, with so many different levels of friendship. Who could decide who is closer or further? I believe that I may not make it to your funeral, probably no more likely for you to go to mine, but you would be thought of frequently! After all J and K chat up quite a bit!!!
8/7/2006
Jay,
After sharing how many cigarettes in your brown bomber while listening to really bad and really loud music, you would not be at my funeral! I'm crushed. Jeez. Now I'm really depressed. XXJacooz
8/8/2006
My name is Lucy and boy am I pissed. My sister-in-law told me some time ago about your website, little did I know that I would see what I believe is something written about me! The story your supposed friend told you about could only be how she ruined my wedding day. She was supposed to be a bridesmaid wearing a mint green gown, who asked her to dye her hair the same color as her dress? And why is there a tatoo of Godzilla on her left breast and piercings all over her face? I told her she wasn't going down the aisle looking like that and that's when things got really ugly. Everything from her tripping the wedding party to objecting to the marriage on the grounds that we had an affair and starting a food fight at the reception! We never got to cut the cake, it was cut by my sister-in-law's ass when I flung her in that direction. I hate to break the news to you J, but we in my family are quite happy to have unloaded my sister-in-law on you. She can go irritate someone else for awhile. And let me tell you something, you wouldn't want her showing up for your funeral which she probably caused by serving you apples, you'd probably go to your final resting place with green hair and cake on your face from the food fight. Of course that's if you even made it to your final resting place, she'd probably take you out for a long weekend and call you Bernie because if you go she truly would have no friends at all. God bless.
Lucy
8/8/2006
Two compliments abut weight and a dress and we are friends? So much gain from two little bits of flattery! Such cheap friendship will not survive a puke on an antique carpet or much dog walking. Still very funny and amusing column, and a good concept. Two compliments to you, so now you have to come to my funeral, friend!
8/8/2006
Righty-O, just let me know when and where and I'll be there! XX Jacooz
