My lovely friend Wetsoks has a birthday coming up on Saturday, so I decided to write this post in her honour. Our group of friends have planned an entire day of fun, which naturally caters to her tastes - these tend to towards Mexican food and dangerous activities, so I'm looking forward to this with quite a lot of excitement. We had an email conversation during the week which was as follows:
Sarahnator: So we're meeting for breakfast, then going for the archery/axe-throwing lesson, then to the hospital to bandage up the wounds one or more of us will have managed to obtain, then dinner, then drinks at Tanyakit and Otternator's flat. Is everyone OK with this?
Me: Dontcha mean Fleetch and Otternator's flat? Unless they switched without me knowing. Also, don't you wish your otter was hot like me? Don't you wish your otter was a freak like me? DONTCHA?
Wetsoks: And at some point, one of you will take your shirt off for my entertainment, right? It is my birthday after all.
There was a long, pressing silence, devoid of emails.
Me: Everyone quit looking at me. Teamwork, people. Teamwork.
Tanyakit: I'm fairly certain that Wetsoks lost her take-your-shirt-off privileges when she suggested some Yo Momma comment you made was too far.
Me: That is an excellent point. And one I fear you may pay for dearly at home, when your bedroom is suddenly and inexplicably infested with "kittens".
Tanyakit: Speaking of those buggers, there's a little "kitten" on my ceiling. I noticed it before I left on Friday, but I couldn't reach it.
Fleetch: You need the hoover, dude. Just suck those "kittens" up next time they wander into your house. No need to gather them up in a cup and toss them out of the window, or flush their remains after you mash them against the wall.
Me: I really hope no one from IT is reading these emails. Out of context we sound terrifying.
Fleetch: Yo momma sounds terrifying.
Wetsoks: Sociopathic, indeed.
Fleetch: Or just bizarrely angry at "kittens".
Me: This needs to go into our script, Fleetch. I can see it now - we'll need one conversation to explain it, and then later while someone is on the phone, in say a restaurant, or waiting in line for a sandwich, they'll have a whispered conversation; "Margaret, I don't... No, I can't come over. I told you why...Listen, I don't care if the "kitten" is looking at you! Just kill it with your shoe or something."
Fleetch: Totally. "Just try not to get its guts all over the wall like last time".
Me: And then the camera zooms out and the entire line of people are staring in horror at the person on the phone.
Me: Yo momma is disturbing. In bed.
And on that note - Happy Birthday, dude. We love you.