Friday, August 28, 2009
oh mr. postman
Dyan is one of my favourite of all time, and like many of my beloved bad-ass friends, she inexplicably chooses to live in Colorado instead of next door to me. (Hi Gail! Hi Pepper!) I met her when I was 16, she worked with my mom at the Women's Violence Intervention Program, and I immediately became enamoured of her scathing wit, jaded outlook, wicked intelligence, and heart of gold buried deep beneath a protective barrier. She looked past my braces, my pre-mousse hair (gasp!), and my infamous scowl, and we were instantly kindred spirits. In short, I love her. I reconnected with her on facebook, and she has brought a flicker of light to many a dark day with her shared use of hyperbole and a general hatred of douche bags. Plus she loves Pink's rendition of Me & Bobby McGee more than Janis', and that's a precarious club to which to belong.
The other day, I encountered this package. As I was not expecting anything, I assumed it was a bomb, naturally. Then I saw the sender: Dyan. I swooned, hella.
She had promised me some compilations in exchange for some I'd sent her, but unless she sent 7,000, there was more in this box. Now, I have made my affection for Dyan crystal clear, but she loves antiques and flea markets and shit, so I was totally prepared to find like a rusty kettle and a dream catcher or something. After all, we haven't gotten around to our preferred possessions, aside from weapons. So it was with great caution that I peeled each of several objects wrapped in tissue. The first one was something that may not have caught my own snobbish eye, but when I held it I started crying, it was so perfect. It fit in my life like another shirt from Old Navy, only I would never wear this:
Damn. Then it became christmas and I was tearing into shit with no shame. Next up was this, at first glance, an electric toothbrush for an elephant (um, thanks?) but on closer inspection it became (angels singing) a hand-held rotating electric deep cleaner. It's safe to say I became verklempt. I've never even seen such a thing. I'm still speechless:
And the accompanying note, ha ha ha!:
I was basically foaming at the mouth at this point, so of course the shit had to turn poignant and rip my heart out in that way only a dear friend can manage. I'm not typically a fan of weird little boxes, nor anything at all in my house, ever, but fuck me if this didn't have some healing powers:
And of course, the note:
There are no words to adequately convey the impact this had. Dyan doesn't know about my deep love for the UK, nor that my best friend (and now, wife of sorts) Mesina lives there, nor that I was supposed to be British, nor that I memorized all European capitals before US capitals. She knows Quinn answers the phone with a flawless British accent, and that's it. She also doesn't know that I quit cloves, but I would almost start again if a) they weren't outlawed, and b) because this box is amazing. Thankfully it alternate use is Xanax, which I will never give up. And the pound. Dear god. I was beginning to forget that some people are good. She couldn't have known what that meant to me. Only I suspect she did:
Next up was the compilation. Lord you have to be made of titanium to listen to three hours of Elliott Smith. It is most fortuitous that I am made of titanium, and goddamn can that lady make a compilation:
Once I was dying of sentiment I opened the card. I still can't stop laughing. For those of you who don't know, Debe gave me the same card a few weeks ago, which I featured in a blog because it's so effing funny and appropriate:
Dyan, I already embarrassed both of us with my sloppy gratitude. You've always been one of my heroes, and you still rank among the highest on the ever-dwindling people I trust and cherish. If you don't hurry up and get your ass back here I will fully burn your house down and drag you back like a caveman. All in love of course. You made my day with these most perfect gifts, and I shall repay you by either buying you a proper nail file or removing them all from your house, depending on the day.