These are my friends.

These are my friends.

Tonight as I pulled into the parking lot at Macy’s I was cat-called by a familiar voice behind me. I turned to discover that my friend and her husband were parked in their Toyota LANDCRUISER* drinking beer and smoking cigarettes like they were living out a scene from The Outsiders.

These are the same friends who, when I called them once to see if they could join us for a movie, declined because they were heading out to the mountains to drink Budweisers and shoot her old sewing machine to pieces. With an actual gun.

These are the same friends who’s son (who is three days older than Ruthie) rocks out to worship music at church like he’s front row at a KISS concert, while Ruthie flits about with her twirling and flitting.

God bless friends who keep it real.


*When my friend first acquired this car, every other word out of her mouth was LANDCRUISER, and she drawled out the word like it was in all caps: LAAAANDCRUISER.

“Want to carpool to the party? Because I have plenty of room in my LAAAANDCRUISER.”
“I don’t have a car today because Husband needed the LAAAANDCRUISER to drive in the snow.”
“Have you heard the kick ass sound system I have in the LAAAANDCRUISER?”

I mock, but secretly, I was jealous of her LAAAANCRUISER.

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