I have some pretty decent friends. Some of them have known me since I was in Kindergarten, some have only known me for a month, but they’re all pretty okay people. I wouldn’t hang out with them otherwise, right?

However, each person I know has what I call a “Friend Threshold Value,” or FTV. I assign a number from one to infinity that represents the number of hours I can sanely sit with someone before I want to strangle them with their disemboweled innards.

There’s a few people I know that have unlimited FTV. The Genius, White, Tiki and my boyfriend are all people I can spend an infinite amount of time with. These people walk the line, ladies and gentleman. They are intelligent, funny, and most of all, they NEVER cross over into asshole land. And now that I’m looking at the list, my boyfriend really needs some kind of code name. Strokes. His name is now Strokes.

The aforementioned people have an uncanny knack for complimenting my personality. They’re decent people who happen to be excellent at not pissing me off, which is no small feat. But this blog doesn’t really apply to them. It’s the other people in my life that feel the need to irritate the living piss out of me after a certain time limit has passed.

In short, people have expirations.

Take my friend Mousecshwitz for example, who’s been nicknamed aptly due to her overzealous addiction to Disney movies. I like her; she’s a nice girl and I respect her for a lot of the things she’s accomplished and done in her life. Sure, she can be a bit overbearing at times, but I can easily handle it within her FTV. We have a few things in common, and she can be a lot of fun to hang out with…

Until the 5-hour mark hits. Then, listening to her invite herself to weekend trips and events that are happening make my blood boil. I’m sorry, but I don’t ever feel the need to ingratiate myself into trips my friends talk about. If they WANTED me to go, they would ASK. If I don’t ask you to go, that doesn’t mean, “Hey, you should totally invite yourself, because I’m being ditzy and you’re on the ball!” The subtext of my non-invite is actually, “Dear God in Heaven, please refrain from inviting yourself, because I’m fully aware that more than 5 hours with you will destroy sections of my soul I didn’t even know existed until they started screaming in agony. I haven’t completely forgotten that you’re a total douchebag and if I wanted to ask you somewhere, it would be to something quick and silent, like a movie. Or your execution.”

Seriously people, has it gotten to the point where etiquitte means absolutely nothing? It’s not a foreign country where they serve snails and frog’s legs. It’s not the name of Angelina’s newest Christ-Child. It’s extinct! Like dinosaurs. Chivalry. The freakin’ Dodo.

Let’s go even further about Mousecshwitz. This chick reminds me every single time I see her or speak to her that she had “better be invited” to my wedding. Well, what the fuck?! Who in the hell are YOU, lady? Don’t horn in on one of the most important days of my life, okay? And if I give you an inch, you’ll steamroll me! Next thing I know, you’ll be delivering my fuckin’ baby while Strokes weeps in the hospital waiting room. Why don’t you just demand that you actually BE my goddamn kid, so that I am required to haul your ass around everywhere I go (and, auspiciously for you, be legally required to never beat the shit out of you)?

In a nutshell…FTV. It’s worth assigning to everyone you know. Get to know your values and stick to them. Invite FTV-5 people to a movie (and potentially lunch). Watch a TV show with those really big douchebags you can only spend an hour with…you know who they are. And once that FTV level hits, get the fuck outta Dodge before someone ends up dead.

~j~