little boxes

i'm going to jessie's tonight for our annual holiday domestic sleepover and this time we are making gingerbread houses.
i am in charge of the dec-a-cake. someone told me red dec-a-cake is elves blood, do you think that's true? that would suck. do you think their blood is the same type as ours? because that would be great if you ever needed a transfusion you could just show up at the hospital with a case of dec-a-cake. it's not really funny but deep down you kind of think it is.

there is nothing better than girlfriends because you can put on elastic waisted pants, get frosting in your hair, and they will still like you alright. that's how you know a true friend from a falsie. like yesterday at work, i put a large narrow cardboard box on my hand and when peter walked by, i held it out and he high-oned me and acted like it was totally normal that i had a box hand.

"hey narnia."

"hey. if my hand really looked like this, would you still be my friend?"

"yes."

"really?"

"it's cool. i wish you always had a box hand."

he didn't say that last part but i know he was thinking it. or maybe he did.

it's hard to say.