Friday, April 20, 2007

My Friend Carrie

She leaves messages on my voice mail. Not messages like: "Hey Nat! It's Carrie! Call me." But messages that are more like random blog posts that she is too lazy to write about--especially since she doesn't have a blog.

Carrie and I have been friends since we were 13. I moved one street over from her and she decided that I had cool enough clothes that I could be her friend. I liked her because she has red curly hair. As a kid I tended to gravitate to the red headed girls as my friends. Just call me Charlie Brown.

Wait, ready for some shits and giggles?

Here is a picture of Carrie and I all dressed to go to our 8th grade dance. No we didn't have dates. We were 13 but had we been old enough to date? Well you know that the boys would have been beating down our doors. I think Carrie's mom made her dress. Mine was my mom's dress from a dance she went to in the 60's. Look me in my vintage southern belle couture.

There are more pictures of us dancing and acting like we are in love but I think just these outfits alone are embarrassing enough. Seeing us swoon at each other might be enough to make you poo a little in your pants or at least snort whatever you're drinking out of your nose. I mean, seriously, look at my hair. I naturally have stick straight hair. I have no idea how I was able to get it do that. I must have been some sort of hair genius. That is some talent. But mostly I can't believe my parents were willing to shell out that much money for hairspray as it must have taken a lot to achieve that look.

Anyway, so that is Carrie. Now that you have a picture all in your head I will go on with my story.

Last week, after I finished running I saw that I had a message on my phone. I do take my cell phone with me when I run but I don't always answer it. Especially if it is Carrie since for some reason she finds it particularly absurd that I will run down the road while chatting on the phone. It is hard enough to run much less when someone is making fun of you.

So I was sitting in my car listening to the message she left. She doesn't say "Hi Nat this is Carrie" or anything normal like that but instead it sounds like maybe she accidentally called me or maybe her one year old Luke has her phone and called me because all I hear is her singing. She is singing Blister in the Sun.

She sings for whole first verse:
When I'm out walking I strut my stuff yeah I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite I just might stop to check you out
Let me go on like I blister in the sun
Let me go on big hands I know your the one
Body and beats I stain my sheets I don't even know why
My girlfriend shes at the end she is starting to cry
Let me go on like a blister in the sun
Let me go on big hands I know your the one...

Oh Hey, yeah, I'm just listening to the radio. I'm listening to the Violent Femmes--you know their song about masturbation. Actually, it isn't the song but a Wendy's commercial and I am having a hard time trying to find the connection between Wendy's hamburgers and a song about masturbation. The big hands are making the hamburgers? The hamburgers are as good as maturbation? What? I don't know but it isn't encouraging me to want to go get a hamburger from Wendy's anytime soon.

And that was it. That was the message. I didn't call her back. I didn't really know what to say. But I definitely haven't gone to Wendy's lately.

On Wednesday I got this message:

Er, Natly, Dis is CarREI and I don now quit my job. I er, guess I'll be needing to come o'er and see you and get some welfare stamps since I all unemployed now. Okay, hey seriously this is Carrie and I have resigned from my position. Sigh. I guess you are probably running. Or thinking about running. Or about to go running. Or wanting to go running or maybe you are shopping for running clothes or running hair things or something running.

Again, no bye, give me a call or anything like that.

I did call her back and she actually had a question. She wanted to know how to run. I told her all about how you put one foot in front of the other much more quickly than when you walk. She has called me everyday since to update me on her running progress. Yay, another convert!

And to all my other friends. Be warned. I have pictures of you too.


  1. I, for one, am glad we're not friends ;-) Well, OK. At least friends when there were pictures of me doing anything embarrassing! LOL.

  2. Wes is too nice.

    You bitch, you can't threaten me. I am guessing you have no good pics of me. I have seriously embarrassing ones of you. I am at my mom's house right now. Think i might go dig them out.

    Yes, I have had a few glasses. Wine.

    SEriously? that picture of you and Carrie is funny as all get out. The really funny part is that you thought you were a dork, and I thought you were beautiful and cool.

    Guess a good blog entry for me would be the one about my 8th grade dance. Sad story. Much laughter will ensue. Or maybe pity.

    I am still waiting for you to dig up pics of Liz with Swatch around ponytail.

    Good post - Old friends are the best. Also, funny to hear Carrie's voice while reading what her voicemail's said. YOu write a good Carrie.

  3. Wes you are sooo lucky. But really my friends are big enough that they can see the humor in things. I can only be friends with people who can laugh at themselves.

    Anne you are lucky too because I don't think I have any old pictures of you. I know I have none from college. So I guess I should be the one who is scared.

    I will have to look for the swatch pictures. I bet Carrie has some if I don't.

    I need to hear about your 8th grade dance. I remember having fun and totally coveting Toni's dress. She was the epitomy of cool for me. I was in love with her clothes. I still remember them better than my own. Okay, now it seems like there were 2 8th grade dances because now I am remebering another dress. . .

  4. Lovely photos - if only I could find mine . . .

    You really can write a good Carrie. : ) And, Carrie - way to go on the running!