DENISE KEEPS IT REAL... AND... UM... UNREAL

Having someone in your inner-circle of friends who can keep it real with you, but in the same breath, is along with you for a ride of fantasy and un-reality, is surely the epitome of affectionate affinity. Allow me to untangle and demonstrate exactly what I mean between being "real" and "unreal."

• Real: This past Thursday I made it my business to remain loyal to my weekly schedule of going to Dee's house. Upon arriving, I was delighted to see that another hag of mine was already there ready to delve into our usual threesome of mayhem and fag/hagdom. Amidst one of our sessions of banter and laughter, Denise received a phone call from Theresa (another hag). Immediately Denise ran into the computer room for privacy as Theresa was in dire distress over a situation between her husband and children (mind your business, I'm not going to spill the beans). Concerned and perplexed, I bolted into the room to see what was going on and I walked into Denise verbally ravaging and ripping Theresa's hubby a new asshole. Concerned for Theresa's emotional breakdown, my hag began to forcefully scream at him, and in the process questioned his capacity on being a man and his ability to support his wife in her time of dispair and sorrow. Not one for having difficulty in expressing her inner-most thoughts, Dee ultimately flipped a domestic quarrel on it's back and created a volley of apologies and hugs between the troubled duo. Job done. You can't get anymore real than that.


• Unreal: The polar opposite of anything consisting of reality, being unreal can be just as amusing to watch. I've been known to be a bit exagerative regarding bodily ailments and aches that plague me on the regular, so it's only natural for Denise to adapt to my drama. Sometimes this adaptation can take a schizophrenic leap into the insane and irrational. When I complain of my eye being irritated and question having the herpes, she'll follow with... "Did you forget to pick up the Zovirax? Well... we can pick it up at the pharmacy on the way to the fruit store because I need an onion for the pork chops." When I express my concern because I have an unusual roaming lump on my head, she'll follow with... "Well isn't that because you have the Scurvy? You know, because last week you told me that the mysterious bulging vein on your chest was caused by the Scurvy, so I assumed that the lumps were just a side-effect." Here's to your loyalist of loyal hags not minding to step into the etherial world of the unreal with you as chaperone. Love it.