Don’t be a chicken, boy, stop actin’ like a beeotch. I’ma peace out if you don’t give me the pay-off. Come on, baby, let me see whatchu hidin’ underneath!

During a facebook chat conversation this evening, I said the following to my dear friend Megan:

i wanna see your peacock

Now, this could mean many things. You may not think so, but I can give you at least three different scenarios right now:

1. She recently came to own a peacock and I was expressing my desire to introduce myself to her new pet.
2. I was listening to the Katy Perry song entitled Peacock and “singing” to her.
3. Innuendo. (Even though Megan is definitely a lady and doesn’t even a have a peacock.)

Even though I sincerely wish it was 1 that was the truth, it was really 2.

are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?

After I told her I wanted to see her peacock, she told me, “that is a very personal comment.”

This made me realize something: there are many personal things shared between friends. Obviously, you talk and share secrets and shiz. And I would say that my group of friends is pretty…. personal. We’re super close.

Not in a dirty way. (No homo.) Just… in a we’re-all-really-close-friends-and-lack-boundaries-now-at-this-point-in-our-friendship kind of way. I wonder when that started. But honestly, for as long as I can remember, it’s been like that. Although, I can also honestly say that my friends now seem to just ignore my I don’t like to be touched rules. Like, to the point where it’s not really an issue for me anymore. I’ve come to accept that I’m going to hug Leah awkwardly when I see her, I’m going to be tackled when reuniting with a friend I haven’t seen in a couple months, my boobs will be touched by hands that don’t belong to me, Alecia will smack my ass whenever she feels like it, when we’re out at the bar I will grind up on my girls and they’ll grind right back.

It’s a fact of life.

I then wondered if all groups of friends were like this. You know, personal.

I would assume so. But, gosh, you just never know!

So I started thinking about my other group of girlfriends. I would say that we are pretty personal in the things we discuss. We’re not the kind of friends I have from home and from college, and stuff, but we’re friends all the same. We do, however, spend the entire week together and that just makes us close by default. We talk every day. About pretty much everything.

I mean, the things we discuss are pretty personal. I mean, we for realz talk about everything. We talk about food and candy and things I won’t eat (blue!) and things I’ve never eaten (corn dog!).  We also talk about sex. And boys. And babies. And bowels. And our frustrations, the joys in life and Glee.

It’s just a different kind of close.

For example, while my closeclose friends may share all of those things as well, they would not at all apologize for reaching out and grabbing a little bit of boob as they tried to pull something off my shirt. But my other friends totally apologize when doing that.

I guess it’s just different strokes for different folks.

I kind of love how wildly inappropriate we are, though, so I wouldn’t change a thing!

How close are you to your friends? Do you lack boundaries like my group of friends?

Chokehold (is that what this move is called?!) in the middle of the dance floor in the basement of a fraternity? No big deal.

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years from “Better Homes and Garden” magazine, plans were made and concrete poured, nail by nail and board by board, Daddy gave life to Mama’s dream…

Last week, I went with my mother to a furniture store.

We went to look for a maroon love seat for the study.

This new house is really becoming exciting. When all of this mess began, I was pretty psyched for her because it was kind of fun talking about all the fun things we would maybe have in this new family home. But then there were a lot of repetitive questions and I lost interest. And then I started to feel bitter because this was replacing our home. This brand spankin’ new house was going to make us have to get rid of the house I grew up in. And that made me sad. So I ignored all the new-house stuff. I became really irritated when conversations turned to all the “fun stuff happening with the house” because I really didn’t like this new-house stuff.

But the house is almost done. It has to be done by September 24 for the parade of homes. It’s gorgeous.  And now it’s super exciting for everyone.

So with everything coming together, we needed to find a maroon love seat for the study.  And we were going to just look at bedroom furniture for the room intended for Drew.

I was really, really helpful. Like when Mom asked me to go re-measure something because we forgot the dimensions, I went to the part of the store that had the dresser Mom was looking at for Drew’s blue room.  But then I saw this:

THAT BEAR IS WEARING A BASKET LIKE A BACKPACK. OF COURSE I WAS GOING TO WANT TO OWN THIS PIECE OF ART.

Hello! I LOVE BEARS! (And dinosaurs. But there were no backpack-wearing dinosaurs. Sad.)

So THEN I found THIS:

What a precious little bear face! I immediately wished that “my room” hadn’t been painted a perfect yellow color and that all my furniture and bedding wasn’t already decided upon. I wished I could change the design concept of “my room” to BEAR LAND.

And then I found THIS and knew that we had definitely made the wrong choice with the yellow.

DANCING, HAND-HOLDING BEARS. I was IN LOVE. How can you NOT love that?!!? It’s hilarious and precious! What an excellent conversation piece!! THIS IS ART!!!

I obviously was taking way longer than she had anticipated, so after a while, Mom came looking for me. I had been running around like a ninny, looking for all things bear-shaped/themed.

I found this gem when Mom found me:

It reminded me of the time I murdered one of God’s creatures. And Mom wondered what the fuck I was doing.

I told her I had a brand new design concept for any room of the house. I told her bears would look glorious in any room, or that we could spread them out throughout the house.  I told her that they would be great conversation starters and that if no one else would appreciate them, I would appreciate the bears enough for everyone on earth. Because I loved them.

But then she scolded me, reminded me I’m an adult and t0ok my phone away.  I followed behind her, dejected, as we made our way to the place where she paid for her maroon love seat and Drew’s bedroom furniture.

Looks like I did a lot more looking than she did. And the bears remain at the store.

I have the best Christmas Present ideas….!