Ladies Be Shopping !!$$!!

Last night I was on the telephone with a friend of mine. Lets name her Clegan. Clegan and I have been friends for some time. She is pretty much the epitomy of what you would think of when people other than me use the word Lady. She’s a Lady. Notice the capital L. Like they do when people reference the Lord as He. (Side Note: I was nervous typing that. In Catholic school, I was taught you shouldn’t mess around with capitalizing words to idolize them. I can’t believe that shit is still with me.)

Clegan is the sweetest Lady Lady ever. She’s a fair-faced, fair-haired, fair-footed Lady. She is the type of Lady who makes muffins with giant sugar pellets. She puts make up on for a run. She wears high heels (closed toe, not slutty toe) to the store. She volunteers at Lady type events — she’s 24 and runs the female offshoot of the Lions club in the town in South Carolina where she lives. I’m telling you. She is Lady. And most likely one inspiration to the existence of this blog. I love her because she is nothing like most of the people I know. Especially me.

And, as would be expected, we don’t always have the same interests. Her being the sweetest lady in the world (I forgot to mention above that Clegan also works for a puppy farm in South Carolina. I just…there are no words), Clegan lived in NYC for about 5 months of her life and did not fit in here. It was always kind of clear she wouldn’t stay long. Luckily, and I mean this in not a sarcastic or judgmental way at all, she met a West Point graduate here and moved to South Carolina. But while she was here, she was nice enough to come out to shows that I would have. In the past, I have been in shows where I’ve played homicidal elevator operators, tranny pigeons, homicidal old ladies, a dildocorn (exactly what it sounds like), crazy-screaming [insert occupation here], etc. At one show in particular, I was singing a ballad for sex offenders needing friends too, a Cleanest River in America standard. In the song, Jake Goldman sings the line and I echo:

“Stuck my finger in a 12-year-old twat, Didn’t really mean to.”

You know. Pretty standard. After the show, this sweet Lady only gave me this as her review, “You’re really full of life up there.” Just, only a Lady could come up with something like that. We were sort of from two different worlds. I think that was the appeal for both us. It was like Good Will Hunting.

NY moments would happen to us and our reactions would be so different. The first time she got “drunk” in the City, she told me she took a cab ride home and realized she didn’t have enough cash so she dashed at a red light down the street. I fucking LOST MY MIND. I remember telling Clegan that she was my fucking hero. She then said to me, “Do you think I can call the cab company and find out who it was and pay them?” A few months later, I told her how I dropped my cell phone on the subway tracks and jumped down to get it. She got real quiet. Then said “Lets get pedicures.” I still find that baffling. But I imagine she thought my feet got infected.

Clegan moved away, as I mentioned, 5 months after getting here and moved to South Carolina with her now husband. We speak every other week on the phone. Last night she called to tell me about a military ball she went to. She started by talking about the flower arrangements. I should have known then I was in for a very long ride. Recently, I’ve been suffering from insomnia. So on this night, I needed to get some sleep and decided to take two Excedrin PM. With my computer on my lap, my phone to my ear, and Clegan chattin’ away about dresses and speeches and toasts, the last thing I heard was “My dress was cocoa… but not a dark cocoa..” before passing out. I awoke this morning on my floor. Like a crack addict. 7am. Which means I had slept 8…count it EIGHT hours on my floor, not drunk, curled up under a shirt. Holy fuck.

The last time this had happened was at a party, where alcohol and pot were involved. I was in a house I had once lived in and decided after making a few poor, real poor life decisions (just like the ones I used to make in the house when I lived there) that I would find an open bedroom and crash. Like hardcore motherfucking crash. I curled up in a room on a bare mattress and used a snow hat as a blanket. My two other comedy group members came in to do the exact same hardcore crash and we shared a fucking twin bed. It was like how I imagine pioneers had to sleep, fuck, die, or a combo of the three.

After reminiscing about some good times, I realized what I had done and decidedly texted Clegan to apologize. She IMMEDIATELY called me back. And she gave me a very long oration of Ladydom, meaning telling me feelings of hurtness, comparing her feelings to movies, etc. She came to a point in the speech where she said “I bet you don’t even know what color my dress was after I told you so explicitly.” And then I fucking championed-out the answer: A cocoa, but not dark cocoa dress.

She got so happy, I thought I heard weeping. I then earnestly apologized for not listening to the rest of the convo, but was really feeling sick lately, and that if she wanted she could tell me now about the rest of the ball. Clegan then said, nah it’s not a huge deal.

This is the moment where I wept for mankind. Here it was, this Lady just berated me for not listening to her, comparing our friendship to Now & Then (yes, that was the movie she used – couldn’t remember at first), getting really upset and then wham, no biggie. That’s just how we are. It’s kind of fucked up, right?

We finished our bi-weekly updates. She told me about this puppy that was born with a giant head and tiny legs. I imagine that to be the cutest dog ever to possibly live. She told me today they were going to do a bunch of tests to make sure it was disease free and hopefully find a home for him. That was her impending Thursday. I told her I didn’t know what my day held but I imagined it to be almost as adorable.

We said good bye and began our days, one in the South, one in the North. I started to get ready for my day, having this weird sting in my neck, thanks to my Amy Crackhouse sleep on the floor. I looked in the mirror and turned my head and what do I see:

A penny that had stuck to my neck so securely because of sleeping on my floor. Jesus Christ.