My best friend...

...just said the following to me:

You're a bitch. You really are.
- Brandon's Best Friend

Now to the untrained eye, one might think that she's being vindictive or lashing out because of a terminal case of the crankies. Setting aside her mental well-being for a second, we should examine the context:

1. I AM a bitch. Well, a man-bitch. If that's possible. (For an illustration, see my very first post below.)
   
2. I created this blog at her request. Not to express myself, because I do that in the privacy of my own home without an audience, but because she made me do it. In fact, part of the reason I'm blogging right now is just to give her something to gripe about.
3. In our relationship, "bitch" is a term of endearment. So, substituting the emotion for the word, the quote should read: "You're a fantastic human being, my reason for existing...pretty much as amazing as air...and not the fart kind of air...real honest-to-goodness clean breathable air...like the stuff you see being pumped into old people's nostrils. Yeah, you belong up an old lady's nose."

So it's pretty clear that I shouldn't be blogging. But why do I do it? Well, because if I don't, she'll shove me up an old lady's nose.

P.S. regarding the "mental state" discussion that we set aside a few moments ago...she is saner than you or I. And I'm not just saying that. I'm putting it in print. So it must be true. Although since she and I are the only ones who will likely ever read this blog, that poses an interesting conundrum. If she's saner than you and I, and she IS you, then she's saner than she is. OMG! That makes her sane to the power of sanity! Everybody run for your lives!

P.P.S. In case you were offended, before you lash out let me just say this:

Oh look! A puppy!