I never got to give Schmoop an appropriate Birthday post because her mother died. However…
Let me do it now, and let me do it with a twist. Allow me to tell you why I love Schmoop in spite of all of her flaws and quirks I shall list…
She is anal…Oh sure some of you are anal as well as I am, but…hear me now and listen to me later…
My brother once came over and I wanted to heat up some food for him. I put it on a paper plate, and was going to stick it in the microwave, when I heard Schmoop scream:
“Don’t use the GOOD paper plates!!”
Evidently some paper plates with a design of a farm and a pig are more worthy than those without one.
Several years ago, before she let herself go to hell, she would work out on Saturdays. I woke up and wanted to make some Kool-Aid.
Prior to her leaving she, said, “You’ll have to get into the drawer to get the One Cup measuring cup for the sugar because the one on the counter is a Half-Cup.”
I said, “Can’t I just use the half-cup one, twice?” To which she said, “Fuck You.”
When I invent something to cook out of nothing, she always says:
“That will taste like shit.”
And even after nine or so years of doing this, she will always say, “Damn Mahoney, that was good.”
Schmoop has an eight mile round trip to work, but if I say she has plenty of gas and the gauge is below “half-a-tank” she thinks I am trying to strand her.
When she has a temperature of 98.7 or a tight muscle of any kind, she thinks she is dying. And let me tell ya, I hear the moans.
Reciprocally, if I cough, I inevitably hear the following statement, “Are you alright? What’s your pain level?”
She also doesn’t plan without changing said plans…Sleeps far too much…and is melodramatic.
But, you know what? I wouldn’t trade her for the world.
Ol’ Schmoop takes care of me…Not in a physical sense (although she does that occasionally) but more so in a soulful and spiritual sense.
She is my best friend and has been for nearly nine years…And for that, I thank her.