Once upon a time there was a little amoeba. It split into two. Those split into two. A bunch of shit happened and a long while later there were fish. Then the fish crawled out of the sea. Then the little lizard fish turned into birds and flew. Some turned into little cute critters who ran. One of those critters took a poop. This little pile of poop had a little family of flies that lived in it. The flies fed a cool bug that fed a cool bird that fed a cool mammal that fed a cool fucking dinosaur. Then there were lots of dinosaurs.
Sometime later, a big meteor hit the planet and went BOOM. The dinosaurs fell down. There were no more dinosaurs. Then a bunch of icy stuff happened for a long time. At some point, there were some monkeys. Those monkeys turned into a kind of human with a weird forehead and not very good brains. A long time later, I think their babies voted for Trump. Anyway, some of those human monkey’s grew and got smarter and somewhat less furry. They got these little front parts to their brains that could do more fancy stuff. You might have heard this story somewhere before, it’s kind of popular. Eventually, these humans figured out fire and farming and got even smarter sort of and started making art and talking and building houses and stuff.
Lots and lots of shit happened over lots of time: weird shit, sad shit, fun shit, cool shit, all the shit happened. There were some really big shits, with humans we talk about and remember, but most of them, you don’t hear about because they were just living regular life. They ate, pooped, had sex, had babies, did stuff, made stuff. Also, most of the ones you know about are the ones with a penis and call themselves men, because somehow they decided they were better and wrote all the history books. Everyone with a good frontal lobe knows the ones with vaginas made it all actually happen and gender is a construct. As these humans evolved, they stopped flinging actual shit at other people for the most part. They created social rules that doing so is bad. But, true to form, to this day, humans still fling metaphorical shit when upset for any reason. We haven’t evolved that far yet, but some of us are actually trying.
You might be wondering what is going to happen in this story and why the hell I’m telling it. What does this have to do with Andrew and Jenn? Well, it’s all about that fucking amoeba and actual literal poop. Because when that original amoeba split, those two cells made a vow to always come back together somehow. They were really very excellent best friends. They got close to reconnecting many times, but the universe works in strange ways and their reunion was belayed. Then, in the mid to late 1970’s something very special and magical happened. Those two exact cells were born into two people.
Those people were conceived from different mothers and fathers, in different places, and with different sexual organs. Both were exceptionally good looking. Again, lots of shit happened. They both had a very rough time early in life. Even though it was different, it was also very much the same in their early years. There was lots of struggle, their dad’s were assholes. Yet, from this super shitty upbringing, they both developed super powers of radically inappropriate humor, with astonishing kindness, tempered with intense creativity, some pretty damn good smarts, and mass quantities of hot and fierce sass. In 2005, millennia’s after this little amoeba split into two and parted ways, these little cells found one another in a tiny basement room in Oregon at a “spiritual and self-growth workshop.”
They were seeking help, enlightenment even, and although the workshop didn’t do it for them, it was destiny that they came together again. The older one saw the younger one and wanted to swaddle him like her tiny itty bitty baby pet. She recognized the little baby Jesus under the surface of his hairy outsides and would already jump in front of a bus for him. He really was THE BEST. The younger one liked the older one because she emitted the mama juice. She was like warm milk and cookies with a strong and loving, “don’t fuck with me,” and he immediately opened up to her. He didn’t consciously know it yet, but he would build and cook and basically do anything for this woman, even ribbon dance.
Very soon, in that first conversation, laughter happened. Then more laughter. Then tears. Then raw honesty. Then, over time, all kinds of deep meaningful conversations, mixed with utter nonsense, and dumb shit continued to occur consistently. These two assholes can talk. Like, really talk. They talk a lot. They don’t stop talking. They talk and talk and talk and then talk some more. When they are together, they are two school girls gabbing away about everything, or two middle aged women who give no fucks anymore. They do this while also simultaneously being twelve year old boys who like to punch each other, be mean, inappropriate, and break shit. It’s complicated, yet dumbly simple, and a perfect fit. You see, a main theme of their deep bond goes back to that pile of shit with the flies. Because these two were destined to spend this one lifetime together making poop and fart jokes back and forth forever and ever and ever.
Fifteen years after that fateful meeting, these two amoeba’s have been through a lot of phases in their relationship. They have talked damn near everyday, many times multiple times a day. Often about nothing, absolutely nothing. They lived together 10 of those years. They have been through a lot together and grown from it all. Grossly, they tried to date for a bit, but they don’t like to talk about that because it’s awkward and gross. They got confused for a bit, but learned a lot from it.
They learned how to be healthy family together. They learned they could be okay, even when they aren’t okay. They learned how to ask for help and receive it. They learned that friendship is the special sauce of the universe. It’s even better than cake. They learned that most angst can be remedied by an epic Ninja fight. They learned all this because they have the unbreakable unshakable bond of soul siblings, not regular siblings, but one little soul split into two. Two sides of the same coin. Burt and Ernie, Fred and Carrie, Thelma and Louis, insert any dynamic duo here. They are a double headed serpent that might be a good pet, or might bite your face off, and either way is definitely curiously odd and not at all boring.
If you didn’t catch on, this story is about Andrew and me. IT IS US. It’s about us. It’s all true and very real. We are the amoeba’s. Seriously, it’s a creative jokey piece. The moral to the story? Does it have a point? Like much of life, who the fuck knows and probably not. We really all just make up our own meanings anyway. For Andrew and me, it’s that no one finds us as funny as us. Nobody laughs at our jokes as hard as we do. That makes it funnier. A lot of the time, I’m pretty sure no one else get’s it. That’s because they are disconnected from their inner amoeba. They forgot they were a dinosaur and stuff. It’s sad. It is definitely NOT because it’s stupid and not funny. There is no universe or parallel dimension where we are not fucking hilarious.
Our partners, Eric and Aria, are very accepting and wonderful people who understand that they somehow landed a 2 for 1 deal from day one. They are very patient people who deeply appreciate antics, even if they want to stab us in the face sometimes. We are continually working on desensitizing them to be ever more tolerant to random yelling, animal and fart noises, and epic ninja moves and shenanigans. Four years in, they are training up well and I am pleased with the progress of our little family. Family, ultimately is not about blood, but the bonds you build and nurture. And no bond is stronger than flies on shit. That’s our family. Fertile ground that we are. You are welcome. Oh, and Happy Birthday dummy. Don’t get COVID, I will be mad at you if you do.
Please watch this montage mash up video of his voice mails and ribbon dancing to fully understand the magic of this post.
PS. Everyone likes Andrew best, even my Mom loves him more than me. She says he is her golden child. I get it. It’s fair. Legit. He’s pretty great. Fine. I’m not jealous. He’s cooler than me. We share a therapist and she likes him better too. Understandable. Fine. Whatever. Andrew, Andrew, Andrew………barf.