Ms M and the BFF giddy from a freshly paved devotion to one another, tunneled through a sincerely undisciplined closet. Proposed legislation of a voyage outside her bed-womb had been passed. Appropriate fitting attire was therefore required. Notably, this was easier said then done. It had been some time since Ms M had on anything more then a robe unless you count a t-shirt and paper bib.

Unfortunately, the lack of concern of her digestive demands made for few figure accommodating choices.

It was imperative she find SOMETHING. Then, almost as if Moses himself parted that sea of clothing, a luminescent, still wrapped in plastic, late night shopping network acquisition surfaced. The Burberry jogging suit.  Marvelous, this would set the stage for the days outing. A long walk throughout Lincoln Park, possibly a Bloody Mary or two at the Park cafe. Just like old times with a late afternoon stroll through the Zoo. Nothing more fun then a little buzz on and a visit to the Lions den.  Such majestic provocative animals with just the right touch of scary. Ms M thought twice for a moment about the Bloody Mary. Was that Vegan? OF COURSE,…you can’t get more Vegan then a pureed tomato. It’s not even cooked for Pete’s sake!  One might redeem extra points for that.

It was a grand day. The extreme weather had conceded. An encouraging sun watched over the city skyline and goodness was in the air. You could just smell it. Sporting a very smart trotting outfit of my own, we were all more then agreeable.

This was the first amiable juncture after what seemed to be an unwavering of atmospheric bleakness. Much of the city had our same notion. Everyone was out and about. After a good mile of smiles and polite greetings an undeniable aroma beckoned from an Italian coffee vendor. While handing over freshly brewed shots of Espresso Con Panna, one took orbit, (due to the barristers unsolicited theatrics) and landed front and center on Ms M.. Putting her best MJ move into play, she was still no match for the stubborn law of physics making for unavoidable disastrous results.  Ms M jumped back tripping over me and victimizing an unsuspecting park stroller which was already filled to capacity. Lots of screaming and crying and apologizing erupted. Eventually this accidental storm calmed and everyone was found conscious and still of this world. A little bruised with possible therapy sessions on the horizon,….but all still breathing.  Reassured that their twins were fine under all that screaming and crying, the poor sweet nuclear family scurried on. Hopefully with a little luck no calls of a legal nature would ring our way in the near future. Subconsciously during her defensive play, Ms M had catapulted in reverse her new LV Favori wallet. She was surprised (to say the least) to find it resurrected by none other than last weeks HALLWAY RUBBERNECKER.   Without permission and with shameless arrogance he claimed her hand and placed the rescued wallet inside.

With a perverse chuckle he then apprised her of his stalking. He professed an affinity for women who regularly wore their food and drink proudly on their chests. (alluding to present Burberry stain plus cheap recall of the other nights tainted T-shirt) He told her she cleaned up well though and was glad to see she owned a pair of pants. With a malicious laugh that suited perfectly with his Cheshire grin, he sauntered off. Red-faced, Ms M was at an utter loss of verbal command.

The Bff was immediately full of questions as to who this new, interesting and oh so yummy friend was. As soon as Ms M could muster up and push out a cohesive sentence, she assured her that this was a strange man. Most certainly NOT listed in the friend category. He was neither YUMMY nor of interest but in fact rude and wearingly pesterous. Although the coffee cart detour made good on an expectational jolt. The two BFFs agreed it was time to move on down the road. Perhaps stepping it up a notch warranting a meet and greet with their infamous confrere….Ms. Bloody Mary.

Whilst being held hostage by a set of Pratesi 300 thread count sheets, Ms. M. was running on little more then grievous vapor. Her internal sprinkler gauge hitting that little red line of reserve on her soul. She had overdosed on countless hours/days of heart stomping talk show television coupled with obsessive internet googling. Once hosting an above average figure of 55% bodily fluids, she now suffered dangerously low levels of the H20 compound. Disguising itself as harmless midday entertainment she had unknowingly merged onto the autobahn of dual sourced sensationalized media. Swollen eyed from her own weep relief telethon, Ms. M. was slain by a never ending telecast of the oppressed and victimized. She was spent. Her tank was empty. This unrelenting exposure had carried off all her tears. As she lay just a little too still on her side, I folded myself humbly to the small of her back. Just as my weighted lids conceded to an override of awareness, the bedroom door burst open. Her BFF having ownership of a duplicate key had let herself in. On what I can only describe as a love struck soapbox high, she set about the room reciting something Shakespearean in texture. Possibly attributed to Romeo and Juliet but I’m unsure. Suspended just short of the crescendo, she acknowledged our pathetic state. Numbed and with a guarded step, the BFF approached the bed.
She then tossed herself on top of Ms. M. and HOWLED. I was able to spring to safety just before the landing. Awakened from the  depths of an universal mourning and just shy of flat-lining, Ms M. grumbled. The BFF absolutely ecstatic at the state of her friends mortal status hauled off and slapped her into full consciousness. “HOW DARE YOU SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ME LIKE THAT!” After major bouts of emotional volleyball including and not limited to, crying, laughing, coughing, choking, hugging,…lots and lots of hugging… they confessed and professed their eternal BFF love. The crisis at hand was over.