For those of you who don’t know, we have lost Ehpa and Eric. They had to move very far away since Eric does something very specific and artsy and although there are plenty of jobs, and he was in quite high demand, none of them were local. The best offer was a great (and pretty much the ONLY) opportunity for their family, but a total freaking bummer for us.
We tried to keep them here. Eric even considered becoming a mason, doing bathroom tiles if there was work to keep what had become a family and a happy life in Rhode Island together but alas, they had to go. I even tried to talk Ehpa into installing a shower cam, but she wouldn’t do it because she doesn’t love me enough.
Cross country moves are a total dick in the ear. I feel sorry for them.
Xanax and HulkSmash! became our children and Girlfriend and Homeslice’s best friends. The relationship worked in every way and combination imaginable. This is unlike family, who you don’t get to choose but have to live with anyway, we got to become a functional family of our own choosing.
We laughed, cried and consumed alarming amounts of vodka sodas, wine, whatever. We did topless tequila body shots (photos are private, sorry) and we ruined their religion (one that of course prohibited any kind of fun whatsoever) in under 6 weeks of knowing us.
Feather firmly placed in cap for that one. The QOFE’s are forfuckingreal. Warn your children!
We had Taylor Swift dance parties (we changed the words from “Feeling 22” to “Feeling 39”) and we sang all the lyrics to Cake songs even though we got them wrong a lot, we did what we could to keep up.
(Sans vodka, we prolly woulda nailed that shit.)
We ate Ehpha’s special recipe for floor chicken and choked down many an inadequately prepared dinner multiple times a week.
We Skype and Facetime and text and facebook message, but it’s really hard to have floor chicken that way. Technology, please try to keep up with our needs. You cannot taste the minuscule dirt from Ehpa’s special floor chicken recipe via Skype.
Make it happen, bitch!
Maybe I can replicate it for you guys: basic recipe involves placing a chicken in the oven. Open bottle of wine, drink all of it and only think about it for like an hour until after a full bottle of wine is gone. After wine-thirty, nobody (particularly Ehpa) is able to remove the chicken from the oven without it getting dropped on the floor. Of course everyone’s floor chicken will taste differently depending on what’s on your floor.
My floor chicken would taste like dog hair, dog pee and sandbox sand. Her’s had more of a nice spice to it—kinda like a combo of salt and pepper, dog hair and dust.
I feel like eating dirt off the floor is a benefit because immunity systems are being strengthened.
AND dinner is fuckin’ ready for the hungry, screaming, whining masses of children!
Parenting, partying, dinner and immunity strengthening all done in one fell swoop.
Done and done.
Special note to Ehpa: “Happy, free, confused and lonely in the worst way. It’s miserable and magical.”
Have any of you Queefies lost your bffs? how did you deal with that loss?