Every once in a while, the clouds part, the sun shines down on you, and you open the cabinet doors in your bathroom to find that you have almost an entire 18 pack of toilet paper just waiting to be used.
Even better, you find that you've got someone waiting on you outside the bathroom doors, someone who is going to be at least as excited as you are to have reams of the white stuff at your disposal.
Double bonus if the "someone" is actually "several someones". And triple bonus if the someones, after hearing your retelling of the infamous Neighbor Letter incident, decide that the ONLY appropriate rebuttal is to wrap the offending neighbors' house. At 4am.
And this, my friends, is how you find yourself sprinting frantically down your street, giggling manically, trailing toilet paper, and leaving a decidedly UN-subtle trail of footprints in the flour you accidentally dumped all over the sidewalk.
It's how you find yourself hosting spontaneous dance competitions, recorded for all of posterity on video camera and set to an all-80's music theme.
It's how you find yourself one of three girls, sitting shoulder to shoulder in an empty bathtub, talking about (EARMUFFS, family members) sex after marriage. And forgetting that the whole reason you went into the bathroom in the first place was to try and remove an errant thorn, stuck in the foot of one of these girls when she dashed across the street to ring the doorbell of your (fun, not evil) neighbors eight or nine times. Just to see what would happen.
It's how you find yourself bundled up in blankets on a pallet on the floor, watching a string of bad movies on a Friday-night lay-in. And then covering your faces with a blanket and screaming that the last and worst of the spectacularly bad movies (Mysterious Skin, by the way - HOW IS THIS MOVIE NOT BREAKING EVERY CHILD PORNOGRAPHY LAW OUT THERE? have any of you seen this??) be turned off immediately before the images broke our brains forever. And then laughing hysterically at the horribleless of all three movies whilst retreating to the back porch to sit, still bundled in our blankets, and talk about whatever happens to cross our minds.
It's how a catch phrase of "don't judge me, but..." can become both a joke and an avenue to talk about any and everything.
And it all started with a common dislike of personal hygiene. If that isn't a recipe for friendship success, then I don't want to know what is.
Tell me, what crazy things brought you together with your friends?