When I say short hand, I mean things like LOL (laugh out loud) or ROFL (rolling on the floor laughing).
Well, I was on the chatter with one of my buddies and I now have a new short hand term for something that is excrutiatingly funny.
ROTFLSHICMNINTCMP. (Rolling on the floor laughing so hard I crapped myself, now I need to change my pants.)
Moonspark and I were chatting about random things, like we do when this came up. When we get together, our collective IQ drops to Quayle levels. We're talking double digits.
What is it about a best friend that just allows you to let go? It's wonderful, don't you think? No worries about projecting some sort of professional or intelligent image. No need to censor yourself or try to be someone else. No sir Bob.
Moonspark and I, when we get together, it's a full on retardo-fest. We can't conjugate verbs or do fractions. Hell, if breathing required thought, we'd be dead. But it's just so much damn fun!
Some of the philosophically deep subjects we touched upon last night: Pauly Shore, the Beautician and the Beast starring Fran Drescher, wang, Wang Chung, burgle, that scary old dude from the Six Flags commercials, McDonald's french fries vs. Weinerschnitzel french fries (the house o'schnitzel gets my vote), pants, gimpy Nenos (not, incidentally, finding nemos), Mistress Chicken and her aluminum beer-can furniture (specifically the number of cans it would take to evenly distribute her weight, thus preventing a total can-chair collapse), salad tossing, venal fuckheads, my gay cousin she has a crush on, the words discharge and moist, the time Mistress Chicken got ran over by a golf cart, Baby J's new obsession with mooning people and Adult Swim.
Between the two of us we have two college degrees and (very nearly) two post-graduate degrees, we speak three languages, can read middle English, classify and catalog books, drive stick, operate heavy machinery, write computer programs, manage a business and generally kick ass. We are erudite women of the 21st century.
But when we get together, we insult each other with snaps like: Your mama has a glass afro with a cherry flavored Kool-Aid leg in it! (Don't ask) and we giggle over the word penal. It would be really sad if we weren't so damn cool.
