Exhibit A: Text message transcript from a conversation with Alice.
Me: I still can’t feel my toes.
Alice: I am sort of wondering if I’m still a little drunk.
Me: Yes. I woke up not hungover and thought, Uh-oh.
Alice: My head does hurt, so that’s promising.
Me: I think I spontaneously generated an organ that only processes bourbon last night. If you submerged me in a giant bottle of Makers, my intuition tells me I could breathe.
Alice: You evolved! You’re a higher life form now!
Me: I can actually hear what all the drunk people in the world are thinking right now.
Alice: Next time you come out we’ll have to test it out. Your bourbon gills.
Me: We’ll get a Deeta VonTease style champagne saucer, and I shall wear a bathing cap. And pasties.
Alice: Add that shit to your life list.
Me: It’s right next to asking Marilyn Manson to cover my body in Lunchables.
Alice: I can’t formulate a clever response because I’m laughing too hard. Which is hurting my head parts.
Me: Why are you laughing?
Alice: I’m laughing in triumph. My life list involves seeing you covered in meats.
Me: Full circle.
Alice: I’m impressed that you got to the airport. And that I somehow managed to call you a car. And that we’re still alive.
Me: I’m not surprised we’re still alive, just surprised we aren’t naked and chained to something in someone’s basement.
Alice: Oh, I am. Didn’t I mention?
Me: I know. I can hear your thoughts.
Alice: Why won’t you free me?
Me: You tend to thrive in an environment that provides creative constraints.
Alice: You’re like a semi-aquatic telepathic life coach.
Exhibit B: When I told her about my separation, Eden sent me this.
It’s an arrangement of mums with pipe cleaners to form the mouth and eyes.
My point here is that Alice and Eden have a book coming out today, and I’m excited for them. It’s called Let’s Panic About Babies!
If you’re feeling alarmed yourself, you can buy it here. Here’s hoping Alice and Eden make you laugh too.