I had lunch with my old friend who lives in LA, one of the honorary Junior High School Friend With Whom I Did Crazy Shit. We had salads and discussed how hard it is to develop friendships as an adult that come anywhere close to the ones you have with people you witnessed passed out at the Rocky Horror Picture Show (that would be me) She had offered to print out my manuscript at her work, and I decided to forego my No Stealing From Employer Resources Policy because…well, it’s not my employer. Also, it costs about as much for me to buy new ink cartridges as it would to buy a new printer fully stocked with fresh ink cartrigdes.
We also talked about our periods, and how it’s taken about 25 years to finally get the hang of having your uterus ripped out every month. I don’t know how we survived through this in junior high…all that pot must have been good for something.
“Now when I’m crying over not knowing how to send a text message on my new phone, I know I’m not crazy, or to stubborn to read the manual…I’m filled with hormones…” I said.
There’s nothing quite like discussing your feminine organs with an old friend.
Just for today, I can talk about my period with an old friend.