"I'm not feeling it yet!" she said, downing another skittle bomb shot.
"Drink more" I said.
and then it hit her.
There's always that one friend in your life, that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt, you'll be nursing and reminiscing and generally being crazily familiar with well into your golden years. That friend is this blonde bombshell. For all intense and purposes, I call her Hazel Nut.
We see each other twice a year if we're lucky because she lives in Melbourne and I live down here, but when we're together, no time has passed between us. And such was the case when she came down this weekend and we hit the town and made fools of ourselves.
She's the kind of friend I can stand semi nude in front of the mirror with, mascara wand in hand, lingerie in the other, and get lost in a plethora of deep thoughts and silly stories while she yells at me because I haven't curled her hair, the right way.
She's my fifty shades of familiar.
