These are four old college friends who are going on a girls trip to the beach. They desperately need this getaway. They spent about an hour debating over text whether they should get trip insurance after a 3-day back and forth over the actual beach house. One refuses to sleep in a bunk bed, and two say they’ll sleep anywhere (but will be annoyed to get the bunk bed). Two of them will plan a diet leading up to the trip, but one won’t really even start it until a week out. They will spend three days reminiscing, telling stories, complaining about their husbands, complaining about their kids, complaining about their vaginas. They will spend an accumulated 1.5 hours talking about sex. They will go through 15 bottles of wine, and one of them will bring some weed and a vape pen, which 3 of them will partake in, and feel like maybe they aren’t that old after all. They will all order salads at dinner and then bake a frozen pizza back at the house afterwards and eat the whole thing. They will be friends until they are little old ladies.
This is the new Amy. This Amy would never have a gross refrigerator. She's not that kind of person. She's clean, organized and fresh. She feels sorry for the people with dirty fridge shelves and expired chicken stock boxes. She can't imagine having a 2 year old jar of pepperoncini peppers with mold on the inside of the lid. That's no way to live and Amy is glad she's the right kind of person. Yesterday Amy had two bags of clothes designated for Goodwill in her dining room corner. They'd been there for 2.5 months, eventually becoming invisible.
She slithers her way in and out of friend groups, wreaking havoc anywhere she can. She told you last week how much she admires you for not caring what you look like – she “just doesn’t feel right about leaving the house“ if she’s not completely put together.