moments of incongruity

I have a best friend. It's very soppy, but it's true. I've known her for 13 years and it's one of those relationships where you can say anything and be completely honest and shit.

Now, this lady, we'll call her Furry (Sexbomb is now either a) choking on whatever she's eating or b) nodding approvingly at this very subtle pseudonym) is one of those people, y'know, popular in high school, life of the party, hundreds of guys chasing after her etc etc. Seriously, it's like one of those teen-angst tv drama cliches and she's the hot chick who is fawned after by everybody.

And then on the other end of the social spectrum, you have me, art geek, smells funny, spends way too much time on the computer and is generally shunned by everyone remotely resembling human. It's true. Excursions to the store for are like epic journeys, everyone just stops short of stoning me. I make small children cry just by standing near them.

We have nothing in common. She's Louis Vuitton and Chanel, and I'm Terry Pratchett and Xbox.

Yet for, some bizzarre reason, she's my best friend. It boggles the mind, I tell you.

And I miss her terribly because I'm fucking bored now and she's always good for a laugh.