Womb Buddy has a certain brand of close friends: losers. There are some decent people in the mix, like his girlfriend, Becky, and his small, pint-sized, gollem-like friend, Timmy. And yeah, if you meet Timmy, he will remind you of the physically handi-capped kid, aptly named Timmy, from South Park. This Timmy character, and WB’s friend, Joel- almost normal, except he is always crashing his cars- I like, but shhhh, don’t tell them that!!! They will totally let it get to their little pea-sized brains. 
But just how to illustrate with a classic example of why I make fun of my beloved twin brother’s friends?
It’s like the first (and thank god, only) time I met his first serious girlfriend, whom my younger stepbrother interchangeably called Cat Eyebrows & Wolverine teeth: the girl sat there and nearly gave him a hand job over lunch. Not to mention her face had more leather on it than all my handbags, combined! Hard to believe she had any kind of a skin care regimen at all OR that she was younger than him! Can you believe she (and my brother!) had the nerve to wonder why I was a giant bitch during lunch? It might just be cheap Mexican food, but when I’m coming all the way from New York City, back to LA/Orange County, and you’re on my schedule, you sure as Hell don’t waste my time awkwardly rubbing my brother’s thigh in front of me. It’s unwritten girl code, but then, I’ve heard rumors that she’s not quite human. Somebody cue the wolverine jokes, but not the cat eyebrows ones, because I’m still unconvinced that cats have brows in the first place.
Moving on now, WB has this friend, KB, to be specific, and the dude is a just a tad bit slow. Love him to pieces when he isn’t opening his mouth and I don’t have to look at him or hear about him, really a good guy when he’s not busy being a bad guy. But he is, at times, most times, dumber than a box of rocks. He also lacks this little thing you and I know commonly refer to as wit. To put it shortly, the dude is kind of slow. I feel like I get more out of speaking to a cardboard box. For real.
Well, today, in the midst of g-chatting (chat via gmail, dumb-dumbs), WB says to me something along the lines of, Hey, try to chat KB.
My first thought was, why should I be chatting his dumb friend that I have little to no regard for these days? But, and I guess you could wager stupidity is contagious when confronted with a case like mine, I attempted to get a hold of him anyways. I thought maybe he would have something to tell me that my brother couldn’t, because my brother was at work. I’m not sure what my method of rationalization was, but somehow, it all of a sudden made sense to talk to this blight on my brother’s social map.
Anyways, I realized I didn’t have KB on my gchat list, so I simply sent the dude a rather amicable (for me) text.
Me: Hey loser jon says to chat
KB: Who u and me?
Me: idk he was vague bc he’s driving right now. what do you think he meant?
KB: No clue. R u home or in new york?
Me: I’m in New York duh. why would i be home? Where are you?
KB: Idk im just tryin to think of why he would want me to talk to you
Me: I know right. oh wait ahahhahaha he put KB so i thought he meant you. turns out he meant the other KB (my little sister’s name, whom I never ever refer to as KB, so why would my twinny???). Jk loser. turns our ur not wanted after all bye now
KB: Haha idiot
Me: You always did have a certain brand of comebacks . . . Bad ones.
KB: Ur a bad one
Me: I know, I know. what are you up to these days besides being my brother’s bank bitch?
KB: Well if u think about it i was ur bank bitch cus the money was for u
Me: It was money owed, but I guess if you wanna be my bitch I’m ok with that. get in line ahahaha
See what I mean? The dude is limper than a lobster in Maine. I’m glad I only have to talk to him every other year these days, depending on whether or not he and WB are embroiled in another one of their lame b!tch fights. Why would you call yourself someone’s b!tch as a comeback? Unless, of course, he does want to be my b!tch, in which case I have to say, Hell no! I have standards. Good, really good conversation is hard to come by these days, RogueRanters. Same thing with good friends. When you find ‘em, hold on tight, because they’re rarer than pretty pink unicorns wearing ballet slippers. (If that conjured up an image of Amy Winehouse in her crack-slippers, I sincerely apologize. No one should have to be subjected to that.)
Speaking of unicorns, let’s dwell on leprachauns for a bit: I hope you all had a swell, really freaking swell St. Patty’s Day swigging Guinness and shoveling pub food into your mouths while looking on as the drunks quarrelled and the bouncers manhandled!!!! And if you were one of those drunks quarrelling, I hope you have health insurance.
Bye for now.
