Friday, July 17, 2009

Chicks Are Just Nuts

I should preface this by saying that I don't KNOW anything. I am not an psychologist or an endocrinologist, nor do I play one on TV. This is just what I've observed in my 30-plus (plus, plus, plus) years of being a girl and being surrounded by girls.

Girls are nuts. And not just for a few select days of the month before or during a visit from her unwelcome Aunt / friend / guest (or whatever euphemistic personification you choose to employ to reference her period.) We are crazy just about all the time. Sometimes it is blatant, out-there bitchy crazy. Sometimes it's quirky, cute, endearing crazy but, color it what you like, it's extreme dysfunction at its finest.

I am lucky enough to have some of the best girlfriends a gal could ask for. Each is beautiful, funny, charming and charismatic in her own way. And every last one of them has some kookiness, neuroses or what have you, that makes them unique and special.

First there's my BFF. I adore her right down to her toes. She totally gets me. I should say we get each other. I know how important it is to her to get a birthday card on or before her birthday. Not an e-card. A PAPER birthday card with a stamp on it and everything. It defines her as a person and is probably the cornerstone of our friendship. And not just any card. It has to be either extremely clever and witty, earth-shatteringly sentimental, beautifully hand-crafted or all of the above. (The maker of THAT card would be RICH beyond his or her wildest dreams!)
She'd be over the moon with this one here. I think that flower is crocheted!

I worry and fret over buying and mailing this card for weeks. I've lost SERIOUS amounts of sleep. But I don't fault her for it. Quite the contrary. I love her for it. It's who she is.

Another of my dear friends is terrified of monkeys. I am talking ALL KINDS of monkeys. Cute little furry ones, hat-wearing cigar-smoking ones and chest-beating king-kong type ones (yes, I know those are apes but she lumps them all together into one big scary poo-flinging, bug-eating family). She doesn't even like inanimate monkeys. She hates Curious George. Why do you ask? Did she have some sort of extreme monkey-related trauma?

(I just noticed that I seem to be going for the all-time hyphenated-word world-record. I think I'm going to start awarding myself points -- I've got 13 so far.)

Nope. No monkey-related (14 pts) incidents. She doesn't trust them; thinks they are just plain shifty and doesn't like that they "think they're people". A few months ago when that woman was mauled by her pet monkey, my friend said, passionately, "You see! I told you so! Nobody listens to me. That's what people get for hanging around with monkeys!" But it is such a part of who she is. Anyone who knows her should know that a gift of a playful monkey office plaque that reads "Welcome To The Jungle" would NOT be well-received (15 pts) and might even warrant an end to said friendship.

As a matter of fact I'm pretty sure I just heard her scream. Sidebar: I have another friend who's always been that way about squirrels. They just give her the heebie-jeebies (16 pts).

This is how crazy we girls are. As I'm sitting here writing this I'm trying to figure out who to include so they don't feel left out but at the same time figure out what I can say about them that they'd be okay with! I'm getting stressed about it. I need to take a coffee break.

.....

As I said before sometimes, it's 24/7 quirkiness. Sometimes it is hormonal. Personally, I get near homicidal every now and then as the witching hour (or week) approaches. It's not every time, just sometimes. It's very strange because I feel like a sane person trapped in a crazy person's body, watching myself fly ridiculously off the handle because my kids won't eat their dinner (which they never do, but TODAY it's a suddenly the worst thing they've ever done).

I'm also convinced there's some kind of pheromone reaction between men and women as it comes down to the wire. As I grow more irritable, my husband grows exponentially more aggressive and irksome. I think that whatever pheromones I'm emitting cause his testosterone levels to increase and, as a result, push every last one of my buttons. I'd love for someone qualified to study this phenomenon through one-way (17 pts) glass.

While I'm playing scientist, I'd like to add that I don't think all the insanity that befalls us ladies during pregnancy is attributed to pregnancy hormones. Some of it is but I see some of the same things happening to my friend who is an adoptive-mom (18 pts) waiting to bring her daughter home. Maybe it's some type of "mommy hormone" that we're born with. When I was pregnant and getting toward the end, my nesting instinct went into hyper-drive (19 pts) and I was just freaking out about the tiniest things. One of my big ones was that the silverware in the drawer needed to be lined up. Because everyone knows the first thing a baby does when it gets home from the hospital is go get a fork and knife from the utensil drawer! My adoptive-mom (20 pts) friend is doing the same sort of thing. Cleaning out garages and closets. "Why do we have that broken shoe rack in here? This baby can't possibly come here and see a broken shoe rack!!! What kind of parents ARE WE?!??!!"

Often there doesn't even need to be a baby on the way for us to get like that. The "mommy hormone" can show itself at any time because it's always there. Back to my BFF. I got her this beautiful photo album for Christmas that she'd been eying. She thanked me and said she really wanted it because it matches some of her other ones and she wants to get rid of the ones that don't match because she doesn't want to "Look like a hobo." Yup. That's the first thing people notice about hobo's. They're woefully unmatched photo albums.

I realize this is getting long and I could go on and on and on about the women in my life and their zany antics. I could write multiple books about my own dysfunctions. Case and point I'm keeping score right in this post of a game that nobody else is playing and has no goal. I'll summarize by saying that we are mega-complicated, (21 pts), self-critical, (22 pts), super-neurotic, (23 pts) unsound creatures but if we weren't we wouldn't be nearly as interesting!

__________________

BTW, 23 points was the goal. I win!

3 comments:

  1. I love needlessly-hyphenated words! However, I cannot hope to match your hyphenating-abilities.

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  2. P.S.: Most girls I've known/dated are entirely rational creatures, except when they're not.

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  3. Chad, your Post Script is brilliant. You should put it on a T-shirt.

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