You Hate to Love Us

Today I’m celebrating my friend and co-worker (please note the order) that allows me to be my worst self and still likes me for who I am. Sometimes I think I might be a better person if I didn’t work with her for 8 hours a day, but really, who strives to be better these days anyway? CJ accepts me, not because she’s a wonderful person, but because being in the presence of someone as judgmental as her validates her attitude, as well.


We make a great pair, CJ and me.

Today at lunch we complained about the wait (25 minutes when they told us 10), the food (how you gonna call it a salad bar without carrots?), the soup choices (really, who counts Cream of Mushroom as a real soup?), and the temperature (we had to wear our coats the entire lunch!).

It wasn’t until we got back to work that we realized that we hadn’t really talked to each about anything real during the whole lunch hour. But that’s what cell phones are for, right?

So maybe we’re bad people. Maybe we complain too much, and maybe we allow each other to be even worse in each other’s presence. Maybe we feel justified in our complaints since we constantly acknowledge how much better and smarter and cuter we are than most people we encounter. Who cares if no one else would agree with us? It’s not our fault they’re jealous.

Perhaps you have a friend like CJ, too. One you can bitch and moan to, but who you know will turn that bad attitude on anyone in your defense. And one you can have fun being around 8 hours a day, even when she’s calling you a idiot and you’re tell her you are going to shoot her in the face.

I mean, who else can you say that to but a real friend?

AND, it was really cold in that restaurant. The heater was out.

And now for some clothing: