Coming to UPN this fall…

I mainly hang out with 4 guys, none of which are my boyfriend, or have ever been. This is both challenging and delightful, all in one.

I have no doubt that they will make frequent appearances in this blog, so I thought it might be helpful to describe them a bit in detail. The common misperception people have when I tell them that I mainly hang out with guys is that my life is eerily similar to that of the almost hilarious sitcom ‘My Boys.’ It is, indeed, similar in the sense that I hang out with a bunch of guys. And I have a habit of referring to them as ‘my boys.’ But that’s pretty much where the similarities end.

In ‘My Boys,’ the entire comical premise is based upon the fact that she is “one of the guys.” She’s a sports writer, she’s athletic, she plays poker, she can belch, and she is, essentially, a dude. Me? Not so much.

I wear ridiculously high heels, spend hours putting on my makeup, pride myself on being able to suck in while wearing a bikini, therefore appearing halfway decent, and I consistently bake and cook for everyone in my life. Basically, I am constantly reminding everyone of my girliness. (Aside: Spell check really wants me to change this word to ‘grisliness,’ which I am tempted to do so, if not for the fact that this post would take on a completely different tone.)  That being said, I am obviously not the hugest chick in the world, or else they probably wouldn’t want to spend all their time with me. We watch sports together – mainly Boston Celtics – but we certainly don’t do anything physical together. (Heh.)

Do the boys hang out with me because I bake them stuff and wear low cut shirts? Maybe. Do I hang out with them because they’ll occasionally tell me I’m pretty and buy me drinks at the bar? Maybe. All I know is that at the end of the day, they’re my best friends.

The breakdown: they all live together and work together, and they are, collectively, ‘the boys.’ However, they are all unique little sunflowers, so they deserve names. There’s J1, J2, the German, and Brownie. J1 and J2 actually share the same name in real life, so I was tempted to give them the same moniker, but it’s a big enough pain in the ass in person, so I’ll make it easier for all of you.

J1: I have known J1 since elementary school in Massachusetts, and we have since both relocated to North Carolina, albeit years apart. We weren’t that close in high school or primary school, but we’re pretty damn close now. It’s nice having someone to turn to and say, “can you believe so-and-so’s pregnant?!” J1 is primarily known for busting out in song constantly, much to the chagrin of absolutely everyone, but he is hilarious. He enjoys rock climbing and has actually confessed to me that he has wanted to climb so badly that it has kept him from sleeping. Endearing and strange, all in one. (A very good way to describe all of these boys.)

J2: J2 and I have only known each other about a year, and it is a very strange friendship. I still don’t have his cell phone number, so I am oftentimes relegated to calling someone else that I know to be with him, and then asking them to put him on the phone so I can tell him something that he may or may not care about. He loves cats and Asians, both to a humorous degree. My favorite part about him is the way that I always feel like he’s actually listening to what I’m saying. He will listen, nod, and agree when necessary. This is also my least favorite thing about him, because he never tells me to shut up.

The German: Fairly self-explanatory – he was born in Germany, and lived there until he was like…I have no idea. That hasn’t come up yet in our friendship. We’ve known each other for about 3 or 4 years, and aside from the occasional drunk sassy comment from yours truly regarding genocide, I think we have a great friendship. He loves the Celtics almost as much as I do, and we share the same inappropriate sense of humor in Apples to Apples. Whenever I cook, I ask him if he likes it, and he refuses to speak words, instead choosing to moan or roll his eyes. It has been years and I’ve yet to decipher what the different tones and eye-rolls mean, but I’m told it’s a good sign. He gets along great with Cadillac, so obviously he’s cool.

Brownie: Brownie and I, like J2, have only known each other for about a year. Unlike J2, however, I not only have his cellphone number, but I have multiple cell numbers. (This makes up for J2’s lack of one.) He also likes to cook, and while neither one has ever said it, I’m pretty sure there’s a silent competition going on between us. For a couple of weeks there was some sort of strawberry dessert cook off, with each one of us alternating cooking a dish that featured strawberries. I don’t know who won (me) but I appreciate a little competition (no, I don’t) and welcome his expertise (stop it.) He has a tendency to knock things over when he’s drunk, which I welcome as a distraction from me falling on my ass.

So, if you can tell anything from reading that, you know that I am the star of my own special sitcom, not titled, “My Boys,” but instead titled something like, “This Can’t Be Happening,” or “Where’s My Pans? No, Not Pants, PANS.”