Goldie HellCat and the Three Wrong Turns

That night in the little town of Irvine, Cal, the Chipotle was all aglow with holiday spirit. The children were nestled, snug in their post-modern Danish titanium chairs, in hopes that their nanny would soon be there with a Nantucket Nectar. Goldie and HellCat were pretty cozy themselves, continuing an already hour-and-a-half long conversation about things like vision quests, working out, the Holocaust, and rescuing dogs. Things were going well.

See, this wasn't just any night. Although these two women knew each other and had even ventured outside separately for the same social event, it marked the first time they were alone together. "What's the big deal?" you ask, as you eat your Tofutti Cutie and scratch your left leg. Well, the answer is this: these two women had a lot of things in common...but one thing in particular. The elephant that had occupied their proverbial room for some time was all growns up, and needed to be addressed.

They had both had sex with the same man. And HellCat was still dating that very same man.

Yeah, I know I heard a gasp from the women in the audience. Dudes, you are wondering why this is a problem. Have you ever seen Melrose Place or some other Aaron Spelling show? You can see it practically once an episode there. Women are not built to be friends. They live in a world of competition and solitude--yes, even though they seem to travel in packs and are always talking, they are mostly alone in their soul. Women, please join your humble narrator in saying, "Thank you, instinct!"

Anyway, when one "loses" the battle, well, that's when bitches have catfights in the pool.

But Goldie and HellCat were different. These two women could see that this shared man they had in common was wonderful and has wonderful taste. So that must mean they are both wonderful and should find a third woman to make a Wonderful Triumverate, you dig?

That doesn't mean there wasn't a transition phase to actually aligning with that idea, though. They had just kind of thought it separately and sat back and waited. That night, as they chomped on their fajita burritos, they knew that this was the time to get sappy. The warm, tugsten-y lights seemed to cradle them as they shared their admiration for each other. They agreed that the other was super, and that they should be friends, because super people do super things.

The 2 pioneers of female friendship agreed not to discuss any actual information regarding the more intimate times (as neither one could imagine comparing penis notes or discussing that one cute thing he does when he...etc). They smiled, made eye contact, and got back in the car to see the Death Cab show. History was made.

Their journey continued, as they thought they were a mere 500 feet from their destination. However, the magical intranet site of Google Maps led them astray. After several turns and one trip to the gas station, they made it to the general vacinity of the University of California at Irvine. Then the dark cloud that they thought had dissipated returned. Where in the good Lord's name were they?? There were no signs in this land, only lonely, desolate patches of grass and an occasional beer car in the gutter.

They officially renounced Google Maps, asserting that it was no better than MapQuest or Yahoo Maps, despite its user-friendly interface and satellite-view option. They shook their fists at the sky until finally, finally some sorority girls showed them the way. When they pulled up to the ONLY place on campus that they, as visitors, were allowed to park, they were hustled for seven dollars from the parking attendant.

"Well, that's just insulting huffed HellCat, as she magically morphed into her mother. She rummaged in her satchel and pulled out seven dollars in pennies.

Or at least she wished it was in pennies.

Goldie magically aged too, because as everyone waited in uncomfortable silence for HellCat to get her monies out, she huffed, "You know, this place is really hard to find." And the parking attendant, some 19-year-old kid standing in the bitter cold, shrugged his be-hoodied shoulders and said, "Yeah, it confuses me too."

The two women, stunned by his acquiescence, de-aged 60 years and shook it off. The show was great. They danced together and silently judged the pre-teens taking pictures on their cell phones. They enjoyed the music. It was a lovely night.

And that's the story of How the Triumverate Began. Who wants cookies?

and milk. g