Yesterday, I finished working out with #PaleoJesus (my personal trainer, to whom I awarded this moniker after I decided he probably adhered to a strict Paleo diet and is totes into the Bible. But he isn’t lame, I just made him sound lame. Like you should definitely workout there.) Anyway, I got in my car and my Bluetooth immediately began translating a voicemail from a girlfriend of mine. I heard, “Erin- Found out some shit about Brad. Inaudible….I carried out a body. Inaudible…I left his house. Call me.”
AND. THIS. IS. WHY. I. DO. NOT. MAKE. FRIENDS. PEOPLE.
It all begins with a harmless cup of coffee and then they want you to hide bodies. Besides, just the other day my friend was telling me how in love she was with this dude. Apparently, Brad was the perfect guy, they do it like five times a day, he is totally hung, gainfully employed, manly…yet vulnerable, likes his mom, on and on. Literally, the ONLY thing she didn’t like was some ugly, expensive, leather rug he had in his house. I could tell she was totally stoned off of the mass quantities of oxytocin her brain was producing, since she allegedly even found the sound of his chewing endearing.
Per friend code, I immediately began to rearrange my day since I now had a body to dispose of and a distraught friend to go comfort with the classic sentiments of: “He had issues.” “You were seriously so much hotter than him.” “There are lots of big penises in the world that would be lucky to meet your vagina.” “You are right! You totally don’t need a man. We are strong, independent women!” Blah blah blah.
I pulled into my garage and listened to her actual voicemail. I tilted my head in amusement. Interesting. I guess Brad was still alive after all and they were more in love than ever. Hey Bluetooth- THIS is exactly how rumors are started. (Me making a note to send Mike a voicemail regarding gonorrhea test results for fun.)
Apparently, my friend’s dog had conveniently shit on the infamous ugly, expensive, leather rug that Brad owned. Brad then stepped in said dog shit and unknowingly smeared it all over the rug, right as he was leaving for work. My friend claimed she then tried to clean the rug, but I don’t believe her for a second. I guarantee she saw this as her opportunity to get rid of the one thing “laying” between her and her Beloved.
I knew she just coldly lugged the massive rug outside and then called me laughing, “Erin- It was so heavy, it felt like I was carrying a dead body. But, I have never really carried a dead body. So, like, I am just assuming this is what it feels like to carry a dead body. Anyway, I told him I would buy him a new rug.” I was super glad Brad had older kids because Psycho here, would inevitably be plotting to send their asses to a Swiss boarding school.
I was also relieved because if this ever went to court, I would be forced to tell the jury that my friend was definitely not afraid to touch poop. She could have cleaned the rug if she really wanted to. In fact, I am not entirely convinced that she did not secretly put the dog poop on the rug and frame her own dog.
I would recall how years ago, on a beautiful fall day, she had invited my daughter and me on a walk. My friend playfully picked up a handful of leaves to toss at my angelic child and accidentally picked up a pile of a dog crap instead. (I would deliberately leave out the part where I started laughing hysterically, much as I always do when people randomly attempt to throw shit at my kids. I would also fail to tell them about how I just stood there, utterly immobilized by the hilarity unfolding before me, with tears of palpable joy dripping into my latte, while she feverishly tried to get the poo off of her hand. It was seriously SO awesome.)
Anyway, the whole point of this story is that Brad is totally fine and now their love can flourish, since she can get a rug that will inevitably withstand the metabolization of the ole’ chemical love drug after they get married. And everybody should be my friend. Like I am going to become friends with myself. Did you see how quickly I was going to show up to help her ass?
Sometimes, I even amaze me. Unreal. Have a great week.