Samantha: She’s a redhead and, pardon the cliche, a total firecracker. Samantha will go off like an illegal bottle rocket if you hurt a friend or family member of hers. This is a girl whose primary weaknesses include spicy food, furry kittens and large penises, in no particular order. We met in reading class, where she interrupted my adventures with Ramona Quimby to find out about my bookmark.
Harriet: She lived across the street from me for most of my childhood. Harriet was an only child and spoiled rotten. While my Barbie dolls drove around in Payless shoe boxes, hers rolled in pink Corvettes and chilled with glamorous people like Jem and the Holograms. I was the maid of honor at her wedding, but each year since then we’ve grown further apart. I met Harriet in my front yard. Shortly after she introduced me to Ramen noodles and her uncle’s Playboy magazines.
Kendra: You gotta love a girl who insists she doesn’t watch rated R movies while she sips from a bottle of Miller Genuine Draft. Kendra can make me bust a gut without saying anything at all and she’s not even a mime. She likes her men the same way she likes her coffee: African-American. I met her 13 years ago at a girl named Chica’s house. She wore lots of gold, a slick ponytail and a Miss America smile.
Asian Spice: She will rescue your dog, habitat your humanity, love your locks — all the stuff celebrities do when they know someone’s looking. And that’s why I forgive her for not owning a working clock. And for adoring Hello Kitty. And for forcing Knochers and I to eat our movie popcorn from cardboard drink cartons so her germophobia can rest easy while munching fluffy kernels straight from the bag! An uber girly girl, I’m pretty sure she’s the love child of the color pink and a fellow named Swarovski Crystal. Asian Spice is one third of Benetton.