Quit Bitching and Eat the Smoothie
So Friends is ending tonight. Fresh is out, so I’m going to watch it. (Fresh doesn’t appreciate the less edifying aspects of life, and yet he enjoys Chris Farley crashing through tables. But I digress.)

I find the finale sad, because I too had a close circle of friends and we’ve all gone our separate ways. Sure, Sister Staceypatrick actually works at the same company as me (I can’t seem to shake her), but everyone else has gone. One got married last fall (not to Sister Stace as had been the plan back then) and e-mailed me the photo. Two moved to Vancouver and still appear to be working in retail. One went off to become a minister and seems to have lost his faith. Now he won’t return my e-mails. Maybe I remind him of things he’d rather not remember? It’s sad. Hell, I’ll e-mail him this url again and see if he responds. And then the inevitable sexual tension, which was never acted upon (okay once, but I won’t mention names here.)

In fact Sister Staceypatrick wrote the precursor to Friends. It was called Roomies and it was written in my dorm room on a typewriter in 1987. Sweetie, I think you should sue. I still have the manuscript….

As I get older, I find it harder to make new friends. But I did find Crabby and Mr. Crab, so I am grateful for that. And who knows? I may meet some of my Toronto readers someday and start up a friendship (Or maybe a dating service…I seem to be gathering readers of a certain gender and persuasion, was it something I said? If so, I'll say it again!)