Why Our Best Girlfriends Are Just That… The Best

Last night I was hanging with one of my best gal pals who will be known on this blog as “Hip Mom” to distinguish her from other friends. Did you ever hear the expression, “you have different friends for different reasons?” Well, Hip Mom, is my friend for every reason (we laugh together, I can count on her for anything, we share the same values, we enjoy the same things), pretty much everything… with the exception of trolling for single guys, since she’s already married to one of the few ‘great ones,’ but let’s face it.. I don’t troll for guys anyway, so who am I kidding.

You know why she’s the best? Because she can laugh at bad or sad things with me. Like, last night, I went to her house. I hadn’t been there in a few months because every time we’ve seen each other recently we were out with her boys who at their young age are still entertained by odd people dancing in odd costumes, and singing very strange songs, that apparently children under 5 enjoy, but scare the crap out of single adults… they’re worse than clowns!

Anyway, so I walk into her house after not seeing her two dogs for a few months, and one of them looked very different. At first I said nothing, I just marveled at how a bath could make her fur so fluffy. But then, said dog came over to kiss me hello, and WHOA, it was no bath, puppy had a badonkadonk that would make Kim Kardashian green with envy. I kept it together, because my first concern was for the dog’s health, so I politely asked, if the dog was okay. Hip Mom, informed me that she had just started taking medication, which was when I answered with an empathetic tone, “Oh, and it made her gain all that weight?” To which she replied, “NO! It’s so she’ll lose the weight.” It was one of those moments like when you ask an overweight woman when she’s due. So obviously I had to burst out laughing and Hip Mom, because she’s a BG (Best Girlfriend) couldn’t help but burst out laughing too, as she tried to explain that not only had her dog been eating her other dog’s food (who was looking svelte), but she was also eating all of the food the two boys dropped on the floor, which when you have two small boys, is a lot.

But then I’d get preoccupied with one of the kids and forget about the sweet massive canine, until she’d enter the room, head first, like a normal animal… and that was the thing. You see, her head stayed the same size, so for a second I’d see that tiny head… and then that bumper rumper would enter my line of vision and I’d burst out laughing again, which of course made Hip Mom laugh too. Phew, that could have been bad. You don’t laugh at peoples’ kids and you don’t laugh at their beloved animals… unless said massive beloved animal is your BG’s and you know she will take good care of her and have her down to game weight in no time.

Of course we’ll laugh about this for years to come, because no matter how much time goes by, funny between friends is always funny. Last night, perfect example. We were discussing Thanksgiving, which turned into a reminiscing of the Thanksgiving that Sister and I spent with Hip Mom and her family, and friends. As a non-mother, there are things I’m not always quick to put 2 and 2 together on, but as a mother, Hip Mom, really shouldn’t have been hysterically laughing with me then, and she shouldn’t have been laughing with me now, because as a mother, she should have felt the pain… but it was too dang funny to not laugh and she is my BG, so here’s what happened-

Sister and I, knew that dinner was going to be taken care of, but being raised as we were, wanted to bring something to the Thanksgiving feast, and preferably homemade. So we made cookies. Not just cookies, outrageously good chocolate chip cookies, soooo good, that as the whole table was eating them, including one couple’s young son, someone commented that they were addicting. I agreed, and knew not to reach for another, because it wouldn’t have been good for me. Why? That would be answered when another guest asked what is making these cookies so good? To which I answered, “I think it must be the ground espresso beans.” I can’t have caffeine, apparently, neither can young children. Ooops. My bad.

The table went silent as husband of the couple whose son was eating the cookies (at this point I have no idea how many he’d had) turned red then purple that very, very loudly, just to be sure he was clear, asked, “there’s espresso in these cookies?”

His wife jumped in when I stared at him, mouth agape, and no sound coming out (running through my mind was: this is why I’d be a terrible mother!) and told me that it was okay, but husband was not letting me off the hook. He yelled at me about the repercussions of the espresso not only on his son, but on him, and the lack of sleep he was going to experience which he so desperately needed. Suggesting he ingest more turkey was not the tension reliever I’d hoped. He stormed out of the room, grabbed his kid, and waited for his wife to follow, as they were going home.

It was bad… but last night, on Hip Mom’s couch, we got an abs workout from laughing so hard as we relived the moment. You’ve got to love Best Girlfriends!

© 2010

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