Call it, Friendo.

I was given a promise by one of my students yesterday. She swore that if I let the class do nothing and blow the period off that she would—Are you ready? She promised that she would be my best friend.

Well, you know the old saying, “With a friend like that who needs to be kicked in the face with steel toe boots?”

I do wonder what it would be like if Angie and I were best friends. She would probably blow up my cell phone with text messages, since I always catch her trying to use the thing in class. I could just see that. I would be a half of a second into lecturing her for texting in class, only to be jarred by a buzzing in my pocket. A quick fish into my pocket and I discover that it was Angie.

Oh my God!

Then we would do dueling thumbs, shooting messages back and forth to a soundtrack of buzzes and giggles.

I wonder what else we best buds could do? Maybe we would doodle sharpie tattoos on each other during study hall. After school we’d practice our MySpace pictures, arm outstretched with camera phone, posing cheek to cheek. And when Angie was upset about her algebra class, I would console her by telling her the only reason she’s having trouble in the class is because her teacher is an old lesbian and is just jealous of her. Plus, I would take her for a spray tan because only her best friend knows that’s exactly what she needs for cheering up.

It doesn’t matter though. As sweet as all of that sounds we would probably have a fall-out over a boy—that slut.