July 25, 2011
If you’re a true betch, a name should automatically ring when you hear the word “bestie.” We’re not talking about just a friend in your circle, we’re talking about your fucking sidekick. She’s the girl you’ve known forever, the one in on 95 percent of your inside jokes, the wind beneath your
wings private plane.
Your bestie shapes who you are, so much so that people tend to group you two together. You know this applies to you when people combine your names like you’re fucking Brangelina. Like Pam and Amanda, stop trying to make Pamanda happen, it’s no “fetch.”
Let's talk about Bestie Twin Syndrome (BTS). You all know what this is. Just when you thought people are only combining your names, they start actually mixing your faces into one fucking betch. It's when people think that two besties look alike, even though they like, totally don't at all. This obviously doesn't apply to blonde/brunette besties, but if you and your bestie are the same size and coloring and people don't confuse you on the fucking reg, maybe you should be skeptical about the strength of your bestieship.
Also, besties can speak telepathically. (No we’re not bulemic…) You see a girl with tree stumps for arms, and before you can do so much as raise your eyebrow, your bestie's there to say, “Holy fuck, that bitch's arms are the size of west Afghanistan."
Betches also have an unspoken accounting system whereby it's understood that money and drugs will always "even out." I got your salad and iced coffee if you get the next gram! Betches put PriceWaterhouseCoopers' lame ass Excel ledgers to shame.
Yes, you and your bestie are a fucking betch power duo and a permanent force to be reckoned with, but if you never get sick of each other there's something wrong with your friendship, especially if you’re living together. Don't worry, it's natural to be so nauseated by your bestie that the mere sound of her voice makes you want to pull out your keratin-treated hair. But everyone knows that all can be resolved with a joint and a #11 Jersey Shore marathon…well maybe a blunt.
When you’re not pissed at your BFF, the two of you are on the other end of the spectrum. Enter the drunk bestie love fest. This happens alllll the time. When you're drunk you either love her enough to like, hug all night, which you'd never fucking do if you were sober, or you're livid enough to punch her in the fucking nose. Also, being drunk with your bestie means that your ledger goes out the fucking window. Let's call those 10 shots "off the books."
Despite how much you’re loving each other that night, it's not guaranteed that a bestie will hold your hair back while you're vomming. That's what a hair-thing is for. But you can bet she'll make sure no other bitch talks to your bro while you're puking in the bathroom.
Lastly, we all know that every bestie pair has a contractual agreement on who owns which side of a picture, but try not to discuss this in public because you’re already being made fun of, probably by a lot of people. Screw the haters, fucking own it.
Every betch knows, there are cruise ships... and some other fucking ships, but our fave ships are bestieships.
Cause you don't wanna miss a thing