The ever-fabulous Mindy Kaling inspires this post because she’s absolutely splendid.
To start, I love Mindy and in another life, I’d like to be best friends with her. Well, definitely this life too, but I just don’t see that happening.
She’s way too cool/funny/famous/trendy/put together to be friends with me.
She is self-depreciating, which automatically makes someone hilarious. She’s a fabulous writer, which makes a person worth knowing in my mind. She willingly writes great jokes about her curvaceous body and Indian heritage — an unfair combo that leads to sitcoms titled after your moniker.
She’s perfect.
When I think about it, what would we have in common, really? Our foundations are just too different from one another to build a sturdy friendship upon. She’d probably talk to her other cultured friends about how basic I am. I’d talk to my sisters about how jealous I am.
If we’re being honest, which is important so you don’t have people saying hateful things about you, this blog post is about how gypped I feel in life and why I could never have a show titled, “The Amy Project.”
To start I am a middle class, white, 23-year-old woman in the smack dab center of the country working 40 hours a week, living with my parents who I shamelessly refer to as my roomies.
It actually doesn’t get more stereotypical for a millennial. I bet 25 million people in America are in the exact same boat as I am. Let’s be friends. Not all of you. But I could use 100,000 more people in my corner.
We’ll talk.
To make matters even worse, I’m also one of those people that runs for fun. (Actually in recent years I do this just sometimes, mostly if the hawt buff guys are up in the gym working on their fitness, ya know?)
Regardless, it’s in writing, which makes it true. I run for fun. I RUN FOR FUN. You can’t make me take it back. (If you’d like to end our friendship right now based on that statement alone, I understand. I predict my new friend pool just dropped by approximately 72,000.)
Something that might make Mindy consider my friendship: I started my workday by listening to Anaconda by Nicki Minaj, and it wasn’t on the way to work but rather at work. Take that, corporate world. Take that.
So overall, I have one thing to contribute to this fictional friendship — terrible taste in music.
I have a weird inkling she just might like that quality.
*Ordering best friend necklaces now*