Scratch me cosine, best best Internet friend

I like to imagine that one day, one of you blog friendishes will come to visit me, and we'll spend the day dressing up my dogs and typing bad words on the labelmaker and Swiffering the floors and watching old Degrassi DVDs. And when it's late at night, and we're relaxing after our busy day of fun, me in Nana's recliner and you in your fold-out camping chair with beer holder, after all the marshmallows and Aleve have been eaten, and the Ghost Whisperers have all been watched, I will pull the back of my shirt up over my head and drape my torso over your lap and make you scratch my back. I won't scratch yours, though, because I wouldn't want to impose upon your personal space. Also, icky. No offense. Your back is awesome, I just don't want any of it under my nails.

And you'll feel super-close to me at that moment because clearly this is what real friendship is all about. Naked backs in your face. And you'll notice, as you scratch, that I'm not wearing my sports bra anymore, but then you will realize that while you weren't paying attention, I fashioned it into a Maya Angelou headwrap. And we will laugh and laugh, but then we have to stop because it's distracting you from the scratching. You aren't a great multitasker.

You're kind of all over the place with your scratching. It's alright though, because I'm an unconditional friend. The back scratching is confusing for you, because I say "Go left!" and my left is your down on account of how I'm laying across your lap, and it's a huge inconvenience. So I teach you about Back Quadrants, and the problem is solved.

Now I say "Quadrant 3!" and pow, you're right there. Eventually, we abbreviate it to "Q3!" and then simply to the digits themselves. It's like our first inside joke. This is already a wonderful friendship.

And then I say, "Shh! Focus!" because I don't want to hurt your feelings but it's like you're not even trying anymore. And you say, "Becky, these quadrants are too large and unspecific an area for me to properly attend to your needs." And I was thinking EXACTLY the same thing, and that's how I know we're BFF's.

So I explain Back Subquadrants. Each of the four quadrants divided into four subquadrants, numbered with two digits, the first denoting the quadrant, and the second the subquadrant.

And you love this new system, I know you do, because it's so efficient. We run through a preliminary round, where I call out, "Q2, Sub4!!" and we see how fast you can find the area. You really shine at subquadrants. This new challenge is just what you needed. I tell you that you're earning a ton of gummy worms with all this back scratching, but I really don't need to tell you that because I'm using my dog training clicker. "Twenty more clicks and it's pancakes for breakfast!" I cheer. I couldn't be more supportive.

"Hey," I whisper. You stop scratching and listen.

"Yes?" you reply.

"Did I say to stop scratching?" I say. "No, I don't think I did. I just said 'Hey' because I'm going to explain my system for a moving itch, but I think we can transition seamlessly into this new system without losing any scratch time, don't you?"

You agree.

*click*

"Ok. Now, you're familiar with the xy axis, I presume?"

You take a minute to examine the Back Graph I've had printed on a laminated wallet-sized travel card for you.

"Um...where are my car keys?" you ask. LOL. Random.

"I hid them," I explain. "Because you've had a beer, and friends don't let friends drive drunk."

"I feel shleepy," you complain.

"It's the horse tranquilizer kicking in," I explain.

"The what?" you ask.

"The jetlag," I repeat myself, because you don't always listen very carefully.

You look so tired. I feel bad for you. But nobody'll get any pancakes for breakfast at this rate.

"Ready? Here we go. The formula for the Line of Itch is y= -2x + 2. GO!"

And then I realize that you're REALLY out of it! "Oh my God! Look at your eyes! You are such a horse tranqui jetlag lightweight!! What a pussy! Haha! Oh, don't feel bad. This is what's called 'Giving You the Business.' It's what friends do. Hello?"

You are one tired sonofagun! LOL!

Ok. I feel like maybe this is cheating, and how will you ever learn if I keep helping you out, but regardless, I reach over to the end table and grab a pink highlighter, and bend my arm behind me to trace over the Line of Itch for you on my back.

"Okay, just follow the line. Did you hear me? Hello??" I say, as I knock on your skull. "Anyone home?? HAHA!! Anyone in there??"

Alright, I realize this is the very definition of enabling behavior, but I go ahead and duct tape a fork to your hand, and reach behind me to hold your elbow while I move your forkhand up and down the Line of Itch. Sometimes I love too much.

You're vomiting now, which means the hors jetlag will be out of your system pretty soon. That's good. This fork business is kind of a drag.

Sometimes, new best friend, back itch follows a wave-like path. This is fun for you, because it breaks up the monotony of the back-forth scratch motion. You'll enjoy the way your wrist moves as you draw wavey sine, cosine, and tangent lines across my back. Careful, though, not to confuse "tangent" with "cotangent". That makes me so mad. Very angry feelings. My best best best best friend forever from the Internet.

Scratch me cosine. I love you.

Alright. Another day maybe. You're beat.

I hoist you over my shoulders, and carry you to bed. My new friend. I'm so glad to have a friend. I mean, a new friend to add to all my other large number of friends. I'll never let you go. Unless you want to go, and then we'll see.

On the agenda for tomorrow: Backleship.

Oh my GOD you are SO gonna LOVE Backleship!!