Taking applications for a new best friend

It's all this lady's fault.

If you follow me on Twitter, (Editor’s note: You don’t.) you probably noticed that last week’s Funday Monday festivities were, at worst, pretty solid and, at most, the things we’ll be telling our grandkids about:

#fundaymonday was pretty cool. Barry met some girl and I had some mozzarella sticks. Can’t wait until next week.

Sounds good, right? Until a week later I call Barry on Sunday night to decide if we’ll be starting this week’s Funday Monday at Chuck E. Cheese’s or back behind McDonald’s where we hang out with all the employees on their smoke break. That’s when Barry asks me if it’s cool if Donna, the girl he met, comes along.

I have nothing against Donna. She’s a lovely woman who worked as a riveter during World War II and I think she makes Barry really happy. But Funday Monday isn’t about inclusion. It’s about Barry and me painting the town red and maybe seeing some boobs.

So I told Barry you have to choose between me or Donna and he chose Donna. So I was left sitting alone on the funnest day of the week while Barry and Donna went out and painted the town red and probably saw all kinds of boobs.

Now I’m left with a few choices:

1. Hope that Barry and Donna break up between now and next Monday.
2. Hope that Donna dies between now and next Monday.
3. Hope that World War III starts between now and next Monday and Donna has to return to her work as a riveter.
4. Get a girlfriend of my own. But the local community college won’t let me on campus anymore and I won’t date anyone over the age of 20.
5. Go it alone on Funday Monday, but then who will be there to hear my jokes?
6. Find a new best friend.

So unless No. 1 or No. 2 happens between now and next Monday, it looks like I’m probably in the market for a new best friend. I don’t know if I can replace Barry’s entrepenurial spirit and his hair that always smells like strawberries, but I don’t really have a choice.

Anyway, here’s the job description if you’re interested or if you know anyone else in the market for a best friend.

My New Best Friend

Looking for someone who can not only be a sounding board for some pretty intense and amazing ideas and who can help run my presidential campaign and is free on Mondays for some really good times.

Essential Responsibilities

• Various best friends things including listening, talking, eating with me, and hooking me up with your hot friends. (Editor’s note: No dude friends – unless you’re friends with Brad Pitt.)
• Letting me borrow money sometimes because I might have busted a window over at Mr. Johnson’s house because I’m still mad he called the cops on me when I decided to try and make a little extra cash by letting people park on his front lawn for the Fourth of July parade last year, but he knows my mom’s yard has too many trees to park cars on and I wasn’t going to allow any heavy vehicles to park in his yard but what was I supposed to do because that bus was already committed to parking in that spot and there was no way the driver could have turned around without causing some kind of massive pile-up and at $5 an axle I was really set to cash in and if he’d have just let me explain I’d have told him that I was going to cut him in at 1% of the profits minus my 10% cut for being the middle man in the transaction.
• Coming over and holding my hand at night when I have that dream about the bear eating Michael Knight.
• Transcribing my thoughts that I scribble on Wendy’s napkins in to blog posts that generate tens of page views.
• Distracting my mom while I try and get her nice couch out of the living room because I might have accidentally posted it on CraigsList for sale and now there’s no turning back since the guy who bought it has pretty much told me to produce the couch or he’s going to kill me.
• Making sure my mom doesn’t find out I traded her couch for Applebee’s gift cards.

Required Skills and Experience

• Drive a really fast car.
• Demonstrated ability to let your best friend borrow your really fast car for driving and for boning in.
• Making mozzarella sticks, either from scratch for from those T.G.I. Friday’s frozen ones you buy at the grocery store.
• A recent bank statement showing enough available funds to buy some kind of rocket ship. I’d like a new one, but I’d settle for one of those Russian ones they used to use all the time as long as the dead space monkey isn’t still in it.
• Connections in the radio, television, and film industries as well as some decent mafia connections, just in case.
• Refusal to accept February 29th as a real day and act accordingly. In other words, anything that happened on February 29th, didn’t actually happen, and I’m fairly certain a jury of my peers would agree. (Editor’s note: Fingers crossed.)
• Knowing some mermaids would be a really big plus. As long as they aren’t fat mermaids. Or dude mermaids.

It’s pretty easy work. You probably won’t get paid for it, but I did find this kind of cool investment opportunity and all I have to do is get 10 of my friends to invest and once they get 10 of their friends to invest and those friends get 10 of their friends to invest this thing should really bring in a lot of money, so then maybe I’d pay you a little bit. But probably not.

It’s Funday Monday!

What a douche.

A few years ago, my friend Barry and I saw this great movie called “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Seeing this movie resulted in two things:

1. It started my own personal cold war with Matthew Broderick. It would have been a real war, but the stupid government wouldn’t let me get a gun because my background check wasn’t up to snuff. Apparently if you accidentally point a realistic looking toy gun at a flight attendant demanding peanuts “now or everyone on board’s going to get it!” one time, it sticks with you forever.
2. It made Barry and me realize that we weren’t really maximizing our potential and living life to its fullest. In fact, while Ferris was faking sick to stay away from school, we were doing everything we could to be at the school because nobody serves hotter, cheaper lunches this side of the soup kitchen, and neither of us likes soup.

So we decided we needed to do something to make our lives a little more fun. Not that Barry transcribing my thoughts that I’ve written on Wendy’s napkins in to blog posts isn’t fun, but sometimes you need a break from the daily grind and sometimes Wendy’s gets tired of you sitting in their dining room for six and a half hours a day without ordering anything.

That’s why we instituted Funday Monday. We were going to go with Monday Funday, but Barry’s brother, a disbarred attorney, told us he thought the senior center in town used that for their Monday bus trips to the fabric store and he didn’t want us to get sued for copyright infringement. We also thought about maybe having Fondue Friday, but that’s probably a bit much to take on until Funday Monday gets off the ground and I think we were both hoping that the other would actually know what Fondue is. I guessed that it was some kind of foreign car and Barry thinks it might be a type of tree.

So Funday Monday is our day of fun and living.

We decided that, from the minute we wake up until the minute the sun goes down, we would maximize every second of the day. That’s roughly 90 minutes, so we have to pack a lot in. Activities vary, but our favorites include:

• Cross-checking my spreadsheet of Bob Barker’s tie color with DVR’d episodes of The Price is Right.
• Running up and down the street alongside the neighborhood cats.
• Finding every book in the library about chickens and telling the lady at the check-out that we’re doing extensive research on cocks.
• Bare-knuckle boxing with homeless dudes over behind the liquor store.
• Taking bus trips to the fabric store with the local seniors.
• Playing a little game we like to call “See it, eat it” where we walk up and down the sidewalk and have to eat anything we see on the ground. (Editor’s note: Barry cheats because he walks with his eyes closed.)
• Head over to the lake and look for beached mermaids so we can bone them.
• Paying kids at the high school money in exchange for their tater tots, because Monday’s tater tots are the best.

I can’t tell you everything we do because “the man” is probably reading this, but I promised Barry my run for President wouldn’t interfere with Funday Monday, even if I got elected. I figure the President is pretty powerful and can take three-day weekends whenever he wants.