My Hard Knock Nipple Life

The other day began with a text from SNF (Shiny New Friend). She was in the midst of a coffee crisis. As in, she-was-out-of-coffee coffee-crisis.  So I made her a cup. That's what friends are for! (I mean, apparently. I had to look that up first on Google, actually, since this is all so new to me. Search terms included SHOULD I PLAY HARD TO GET and DO I HAVE TO DO HER LAUNDRY TOO.)

Later, that evening, I got another text.

Duuuuude. I'll give you a kidney for more caffeine.

And since I'm running low on kidneys, I decided I'd just run her over a whole damn bag of coffee.  (Well, the kidney thing AND so she'd just quit whining already.  Because COME ON.)  But by the time I got the kids down for bed it was about half an hour later and I'd forgotten to tell her that I was going to be her caffeine savior.  But she's my neighbor, right? We're friends, now, yeah?  These types of arrangements don't require advance notice, am I wrong?  (No, really, I'm still not sure fortheloveofgod.)

So I quickly slipped on my clogs, skipped a coat, and walked out of my house, into the cold evening air, down the sidewalk, and up the stairs to her front door, where I rang the door bell, Seattle's Best in-hand.  No one answered, but I saw lights on.  I leaned slightly to my right and peeked in through the front window, suddenly curious if anyone could actually have a caffeine-withdrawal induced heart attack.  After knocking a few more times, I was debating weather to just leave the coffee on the porch or call the paramedics.  That's when I heard my name being called from across the street.

KRISTINE! OVER HERE!

I turned slowly because I suddenly remembered what I'd seen across the street as I walked toward her house minutes ago.

A party.  Guys, I had seen a late-night cool-kids party.

Now would be a good time to remember that I'm in my pajamas, sports bra (READ: no padding from the effects of cold weather), dog-chewed clogs, and early morning makeup (READ: smudged mascara that gives that coke-head look).  When I finally completed my slow, hesitant turn about fifteen minutes later, I saw SNF's husband waving me over.  Of course.

At this point, I'm doing some sort of shuffle on the porch, moving to go, then hesitating and looking back into the house as if someone will miraculously materialize.  But at this point, now that I'd been identified, I decided it would be much MORE weird for me to just leave the coffee on the porch than to walk across the street to a woman's house who I KNOW dislikes me, knock on their door IN MY MOTHERFUCKING PAJAMAS, ask for someone who DOES NOT live there, and hand said person a bag of coffee.  At like 8:00 at night.  Clearly, I'm pretty awesome at making decisions.

SO. Across the street I went, cursing her husband for even remembering my name.

When I reached the porch, I could see them through storm door, congregated down the hall.  In a circle, naturally.  THE WOMEN.  I timidly knocked on the door, but this was not effective.  So rather than muster the amount of determination required to knock again, just more firmly, I just stood there like a fucking creepshow until someone realized that there was a possessed, pointy-nippled zombie in pajamas standing at their doorway.  Which, actually worked pretty well because suddenly they all seemed to raise their heads at once and scowl.

But I didn't flinch. I pretty much expected this. I mean, c'mon. Look at me.  No, really.  LOOK AT ME.

I don't even think anyone made any movements toward the door--probably making mental notes of where the closest blunt objects might be--so I ended up opening it myself.  Appropriate, right?  Yeah, sure, why not? I'M ON A ROLL.  I stuck my head into the entryway and mumbled something about SHINY NEW FRIEND HERE? and thankfully without much further ado, she popped her head around the corner and dashed toward me. By the look on her face, I'm surprised she wasn't carrying a blanket saying something like, MY GOD, LET'S GET YOU COVERED UP!  Instead, she stroked my head lovingly, thanked me for the coffee over the din of the gasping and loud music, and told me she'd text me later.  (Friends do that, right?)  I turned around and walked briskly back to the house with my hands folded across my chest.  (No no, there was no shame here.  It was the nipples, remember?)

In the end, I felt kinda bad that I had given the coffee to her right there, because she had to go BACK IN to the party with it and somehow work that prop into the equation.  Perhaps she was also asked to explain her taste in human beings.

How awkward.