REFLECTIONS OF A "C"

Seeing as how Fridge and R Von D (or typists with similar Y chromosomes) have taken to posting exclusively on this website, I thought that I might take a stab at being the first female in the history of the world to have the privilege of contributing to all that is the Pen 15 Club. Im not going to lie, I read this blog (alot) and not only that, I usually find it quite amusing. But I found something missing dear readers; I just couldn't put my finger on it. And then it hit me -- feminine wiles. This site is in desperate need of some estrogen...and I am just the woman to provide it.

Take Fridge for instance. If one were to take his posts at face value, you may judge him to be a guy's guy who enjoys sports, beer, and occasional bowel troubles. (In fact, I often find myself wondering if Fridge whistles whilst on the crapper so he doesn't forget which end he needs to wipe.) But what you may not know is that underneath it all, Fridge is all teddy bear. That's right---he played the namesake in our 4th grade production of "Paddington Bear." Never to be outdone, Fridge also enjoyed rave reviews in a glowing performance of the Broadway Hit, "Cats." I kid you not. Never before in my life has the Magical Mister Mistofolees moved me to tears in such a way. Although he lives right down the hill, Fridge has a way of keeping me close, but not too close. For example, I've never been invited to his pool (even on the hottest summer days), Fridge used to hop rides to school and blow past me at the bus stop, and he has a way of conveniently leaving his phone in his car whenever I "really" need to get in touch with him. Nevertheless, Fridge remains one of those people that will be there for you when you need him the most (and I'm talking more than just "being there" to puke on my the kitchen floor as my roommate's dog proceeds to lap it up).

Up until the age of 15, Fridge and I were forced to ride the hell that was public transportation together. We shared the same bus stop, endured the same frigid 7 am daybreaks together, and waiting patiently as our busdriver seemed to be perpetually late morning after morning. During those jaunts back and forth to school, Fridge taught me such important life lessons as what it means when a person chooses to sit on another's face and which characters had the misfortune of falling on the ice walking on the sidewalk outside school that morning. Even when I got my peach Bath & Body lotion all over his silk neck tie, Fridge promised not to tell his mom and get me in trouble--that is TRUE Friendship.

Then there is R Von D. Though I don't have the same history with him as I do with Fridge, (if we are talking solely time measurement) I can say that over the past few years, he has become my "family" (as we so affectionally refer to each other). As I read this, however, I feel a certain twinge of guilt that I must divulge. One drunken evening, R Von D and I did have the misfortune of playing tonsil hockey. Therefore, it is a bit strange to refer to him as my "family" as we do not live in Keene or northern regions of New Hampshire where it would be acceptable to love my "family" like that. Let me assure everyone that I had just puked my guts out, pushed R Von D into my sunroom, and not even bothered to brush my teeth (just to give u a sense of the sobriety level there).

Judging from the posts on this blog, I bet you can already guess---R Von D is "AN ANGRY ELF." But he is MY FAVORITE ANGRY ELF. They say "misery loves company," and that couldn't be more true for R Von D. Despite his mood, he is always the first to cheer me up when Im feeling down. He will literally drive hours to make sure my parties go off without a hitch or to scare friends away with his foul smelling foofs (a mixture of pancake batter and butthole I believe is his "scent.") I can say without doubt that he is the only person in this world I would let refer to my "moose knuckle" or call me the "C" word to my face. Furthermore, just this week I shared a great moment with R Von D. Chatting online, he told me that he had a "chode." Quick to correct him, I informed him it was spelt "Choad." His quick retort: "You don't have to spell, just bend over and take it." Gotta love someone who gives you that type of respect. (On a side note, there is no way he will EVER get in my pants as there is already one asshole in there).

Together, R Von D and Fridge encompass a huge amount of my life. I just wanted to make sure the blog got a sense of who they are from the female perspective. Though they claim to treat women like objects and view them all as a bunch of "C's," they are kind enough to welcome me into their fold. But then again, I keep my bitchin and crying to a minimum -- these tactics are reserved for blackmail and blackmail alone. Moreover, beer is more exciting to me than shoes.

-Not so stupid a "C"