It’s Holly

I don’t have many girlfriends. Only two, actually - Kelly and Stephanie. Now Kelly is, self-admittedly, the whitest white girl ever. She also happens to know every word to every 50 Cent song ever made. Ever. Which, in turn, makes her the blackest whitest white girl I’ve ever known. This is the text message I get from her yesterday:

“I now own the 50 Cent and The Game CD. I also purchased the Wiggles greatest hits. Needless to say the guy @ Target was really confused.”

I’m gonna guess the Wiggles was for her son, Ty. But then again, Kelly is white. And white people do weird shit. But that’s why I love her. And hHer stomach is a bottomless pit. Here’s a good example:

This weekend we went to look at furniture for my new apartment. She’d never had the swedish meatballs at Ikea, so of course, we had to go. Her stomach had already been hurting from her evil grandmother’s chicken fried steak the night before, and in her own words, her “ass was leaking”. LOL But off to swedish meatball land we went, anyway… bork bork bork.

She eats a couple meatballs, a few bites of potato and some of that funky lingonberry sauce they give you, and her stomach is tore the fuck up - yet she perseveres. We drive up to Encinitas and she’s determined to buy me some Reef flip-flops (her attempt to make me “whiter”). But they didn’t have my size. Tillys (where we went to see the Reefs) is right by our favorite sushi place. We had been talking about sushi all day… about how long it had been since we hadn’t had any. So I said “You’re stomach’s messed up, you sure you wanna go to Sushi on the Rock?” Her response “I can’t believe you’re ASKING me if i WANT to eat SUSHI!!!”. So, off we went to Sushi on the Rock.

Three rolls later, Kelly’s stomach was fucked the fuck up. A couple hours later, I’m thinking we might go out downtown and meet some folks for drinks, but plans changed, blah blah blah, and Kelly is doubled over in my car with gas stomach cramps from hell. So what does she say?

Kelly: Dairy always makes my stomach feel better.
Holly: WHAT?! Dairy tears up everyone’s stomach!!!
Kelly: I want a chocolate chip calzone. Let’s go to Claim Jumper.
Holly: Shut the fuck up. Are you serious?!?

…and off we went to Claim Jumper. And we sat in the bar and got a chocolate chip calzone with ice cream - which we didn’t finish half of (Kelly: “waaay too much chocolate, not enough pastry”). Now she can barely get up, but supposedly, the dairy made her feel better (note: it didn’t). That finally ended the night, and I took her back to her car. I had to roll her ass out.

And that’s why I love Kelly. She’s a ride or die, eat until I’m dizzy kinda girl.