Honestly, we’d be best friends, and here’s why.
I recently kicked a stranger in the shin at a HAIM concert because he plowed right into me to stand closer to the stage. It took me three tries (aka I missed the first two times) before my foot finally connected with his leg.
I once threw up in my elevator, and even though I cleaned it up, and the building has had the carpet cleaned multiple times, a little stain shows back up every other month, like a ghost. And even though little stain ghosts can’t talk, I know it’s just yelling, “SHAME. SHAME. SHAME,” haunting me personally, forever.
I made some friends in my Second City improv class, and sometimes we say funny things to each other.
4. She’s from Kentucky.
I grew up in the Chicago suburbs, and the Internet seems to be inconclusive about what region of the U.S. Kentucky really belongs to, but for the purpose of our future friendship, I choose to think we’re just a pair of Midwestern girls.
Ditto. F*cking ditto. Except I’ve never been invited on a talk show to do it…
I’ve never won an Oscar, but I have fallen plenty of times. On roller blades. In heels. The only bone I’ve ever broken was my big toe, and it’s because I tripped over a curb in flats.
There are several photos of me on the internet from college where my skin is oompa loopma orange, but I’m too lazy to delete them from my social media accounts, and sometimes my friends share them from their “time hop” without asking, so I really get what she means about privacy.
8. She dated Chris Martin.
I listened to A Rush of Blood to the Head on repeat throughout most of middle school.
Me too, girl. Except I rent my own apartment. And instead of a dog, I have like a really soft blanket that’s fun to cuddle with and doesn’t require feeding or walking, or any sort of responsibility or commitment.
Or as I like to call it, a trip to my mom’s house.
Article originally posted by Thought Catalog.