Chris
I have many friends called Chris. It humours me how different they all are. Here's a profile of my homies (no order in particular, and no last names cos you're all perverted):
- The first thing I noticed about this Chris was his crisp baby-blue shirt. He must iron them - but what kid of this day and age irons their shirts?! Chris #1, that's who. That's why I respect him intensely (I'm gonna be cheated if he doesn't actually iron them. I'm gonna pretend he does anyway). I got drunk with this Chris and another lovely fellow called Sam in the dolls house at uni. It was one of my most memorable nights, partly because Chris and Sam had stolen two bottles of wine, and partly due to that fact that my classmates went and stole whole pile of flashy lights and had a dance party outside Building 1. But the other part was having a laugh in the dolls house while Sam and I watched Chris choose exotic videos from the library.
- Chris: Perhaps the Chris I see the most, this Chris is my fellow enjoyee of all things binge-worthy. He and I often chat while ingesting copious amounts of anything, really, mostly McDonalds at 3am. We once went on a road trip, and Chris #2 and I did Scrumpy Hands together, resulting in me waking up with scribbled poetry, drawings of shoes, and letters I'd written to Chris, stuffed in my bra. They were all drivel, but are hilarious and somewhat insightful to look at now.
- This Chris looks like Jesus, but is brown and racial. I don't actually know this Chris, I met him the other night at a party. BUT I know his face well cos I always see him at the Mint Chicks gigs, thrashing around and pissing people off. He's always 'that guy' in the crowd - pushing people around, whipping them in the face with his long hair and generally causing a ruckus. At this party where I finally met him, I learned that Chris #3 is absolutely obsessed with Miley Cyrus: he sang a few of her songs, word for word, with surprising gusto and finesse (check out my fancy words, yo). I was very impressed. We talked deeply about how I would play ukelele their wedding. I quite liked this Chris, he was very polite and almost made me wish I had long hair like his. Almost.
- Chris: I went to school with this Chris, but he left in Form 2 and went to that horrid stench-pot we call Auckland Boys Grammar. I saw him in town last year, and it was strange - it was like seeing the same old jock I knew and loved, but this time he was stuffed into the body of some pretty indie kid whose jeans were highly likely to render him infertile. And his chest was busting out of his grey buttoned cardigan. It just didn't make sense.
- This Chris was techically my uncle for the first 9 years of my life. I don't really know why my aunty dumped him. I'd really like to ask, but I'm assuming it will be awkward and uncomfortable for her. Chris #5 was absolutely magical when I was a kid - he sang in a band that seemed like they were stuck in the 70's. But they were still the ultimate rockstars when I was eight. He serenaded me one night on front of a massive crowd, and I blushed till my face was on fire. Y'know, it is terribly sad to search for excuses to leave conversation with some one who once held your attention for hours on end. Ex-uncle Chris is now just another one of those creepy has-beens. He does, however, remain on a slight pedestal in my mind, because he gifted me my first bass guitar when I was 15. It's a shitty black Samick, but it has something special about it - probably due to the fact that it was owned by his older sister who died before I could meet her (mmmmm, bleak). It's funny how an ordinary object gains intrinsic value if it has been owned by some one who has died. I think gifting me a guitar is possibly the coolest thing anyone has ever done for me. I just try not to think of being haunted by his sister when I play it.
I'm not sure about my stance of these Chris' reading my posts about them. I haven't told them, that's for sure. Hope they can't read my mind, otherwise that'd be awkward.
Next time on Fortuitous Friend Files: Sam
