They say it’s your birthday! (duh nuh nuh nuh NUH nuh!)…
January 11, 2006 · Print This Article
Some of the funniest memories of my life involve a friend of mine, a girl I met in the fifth grade soon after moving to Prescott, Arizona. Let’s call her Nat, shall we? You know, because that’s her name? The first time we met she was immediately envious of my naturally curly hair and I was momentarily awestruck by her gorgeous, ice-blue eyes. We bonded immediately. Seriously. We had the tightest, most tempestuous love/hate relationship the world had ever seen, I tell you what. Because this gal and I? We were totally BFF! Best frenemies FOREVAH! Oh, I kid you NOT. We either loved each other or we hated each other. There was no in between.
— Laughing over the birthday cake she baked and decorated for me on my eleventh birthday, which cracked like an 8.5 on the Richter scale and fell apart right before our eyes;
— The time in sixth grade when a boy we both liked responded to a note of the “Do you like me? Check Yes or No” variety with the diplomatic response that he thought I was “Cutest” and Nat was “Prettiest,” to which Nat responded in her most disdainful voice, “Ha! ‘Pretty’ is like Farrah Fawcett. ‘Cute’ is like Snoopy”;
— Getting kicked out of Sunday School class with her due to her sharp wit and an even sharper tongue (We were only in junior high and she may have looked all cute and innocent, but not only was she the smartest person I had ever known, she knew how to press EVERYBODY’S buttons and watched WAY too much Letterman. She was hysterical!);
— Shouting in amazement “You SLAPPED ME!” during a road show rehearsal after Nat totally clocked me, right out of the blue! For NO reason whatsoever! That I can RECALL! (I must have had fire in my eyes because she ran to stand by her mother, who was the director that year, so I couldn’t freaking DECK her like I wanted to);
— Dyeing her hair brunette for a part in the play and using permanent hair color, effectively turning her hair several shades of gray until it finally settled into a nice, sea-green color, earning her the nickname “Algae Head.” (I let The Slap go after that; I figured this experience was punishment enough);
— Cruising Gurley Street in my Pooh Car, blasting Rhythm of Love by the Scorpions or Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley (that one was her choice, I SWEAR!);
— Partying at the Ostrich Farm with Di and some other friends (total crashers!), while Nat shrieked at everyone within earshot, “WE’RE NOT DRINKING! AAAH! The appearance of evil!”;
— Singing “Memory! All alone in the MOOOOOOOONLIGHT!” at the top of our lungs whenever we drove past a memorable place in our love lives;
— Going on vacation and bringing back for me a long, hysterical note composed on the back of an airsick bag;
— Inviting BOYS to a sleepover at my house when my parents were out of town, and my grandfather walking in at six in the morning to find Nat and a boy curled up together on the floor, fast asleep (Totally innocent! Pinky promise!);
— Accusing me of “going to Prom with the only boy [she’d] ever love!”
— Swimming together during summer breaks when we were home from our respective colleges, discussing boys, the general suckiness of fair skin, and politics;
— Introducing me to the liberating freedom of expression contained in the words “hell” and “damn”;
— Honoring me by asking if I would be one of her bridesmaids at her wedding;
— Teaching me that a person can overcome and move past the bad– no, heinous– events in her life and grow up to be a loving wife, a caring mother, and a true friend.
Enough said. Happy birthday, Nat. I still love you like a sister, and I always will. Thanks for being my bestest frenemy EVAH.