It's A Miracle I Have Any Friends Left At All

Sometimes I go back and read a post and think Wow, do I really sound that anti-social? It makes me want to tell you that I do actually have some friends (three, sometimes four if I don't piss them off too much). But although I am fiercely loyal to my true friends and would give my last pint of blood if needed, I suck at the day-to-day kind of friend duties.

For instance, my friend Kim L. (yes, EVERYONE in my life is named Kim) just had her first baby and I haven't gone to the hospital yet to see him. Jason asked me how much the baby weighed and how long he is and how the fuck should I know? I don't even know how long my children were. My friend Heather asked if Kim delivered vaginally or C-section and I thought wow, that's kind of personnel, but felt like a bad friend for not knowing the answer. Because part of being a good friend is being in the know about anything that travels through that area, right?

I had every intention of going to the hospital, but lately I've been taking the kids to the Y pool pretty much every day. Jay has gotten chubby, and rather than give him a complex about it (which I will NEVER do, no matter how big he gets), I've decided it's my job to encourage as much physical activity as possible. And the kid LOVES to swim, so it's win-win all the way around. Anyway, although there's very little actual physical exertion on my part ( a lot of wading in the kiddie pool with Megan), you'd think I'd competed in a triathlon because when we get home I am EXHAUSTED. (And FAMISHED-- the sun has a way of tricking your body into thinking you've just burned off a massive amount of calories that must be replenished immediately. I'm talking the kind of eating that involves fistfuls of white bread and indiscriminate leftovers consumed right there in the doorway of the fridge.)

So my point is, I end up forgetting until later that night and shit, at this rate she'll be home before I see her baby. I am such a slacker of a friend.

Oh, on an unrelated note, I've been kind of having this competition with Libby regarding the number of followers on our blogs (because we are that needy and childish) and she has threatened to shuttle homeless people to the library computers (God knows what she's promised them, I'm pretty sure a few homeless veterans have been flashed). So if you're reading this and have not signed as a follower, please indulge me. (I'd like to add that Libby hates kittens, and I'm pretty sure old people, too.) We have both been wantonly trolling the blogosphere, engaging in unprotected commenting and other risky behavior. This morning I found a nasty wart on my finger (I'm not going to mention which one of you I think I got it from-- you know who you are), but if I beat her it will all be worth it. Also, I found an awesome blog Gwen Alison Wonderland. I'll admit, when I first read it I was a little scared I would be struck by lightening, but I love it. She's bold and funny and fearless-- a great adrenaline rush for someone like me who's scared of heights. (And closed in spaces, and snorkeling in the ocean where so many things can just dart out and eat you, and speed-- as in the vehicular variety, not the pharmaceutical kind.)