Are You a Swiss Army Friend Too?

How I'm a multifunctional friend with some quirky caveats

Gif by Carla Delaney on Giphy

The type of friend I am has (d)evolved over the years. I learned a lot about when to respect boundaries and when to bulldoze my friends into hilarious submission by physically rolling my body over them, yelling ‘steamroller!’

You have to keep friendships fun.

Well, you do if you’re my friend.

Best friendships are a unique beast. You need to find someone with quirky edges that fit into your jagged exterior; your weird has to fit into their weird like a Russian Matryoshka doll of quirkitude. I’ve found a number of these types of friends over the years.

Sadly, most of them now live hundreds or thousands of miles away from me, either due to my moving or theirs. And one died. That selfish fucker.

I got reminiscent about some of these friendships recently as I scrolled through some old pictures. And it made me want to put some of that weirdness on paper. So I wrote the below, which is all things my friends and I have done before. Except for hiding a body together, which isn’t true — yet.

But since I’m a few years older now, I added some new boundaries to suit my why-am-I-so-fucking-tired, 40s, chronically-illin’ lifestyle.

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My Swiss Army Friendship Model

You need me to help you hide a body? I got you, booboo. Did you know that pigs will eat a human body in a surprisingly fast amount of time? I do. I also know that they don’t chew through larger bones like femurs, and can’t digest human hair or teeth. So there’s still some cleanup to be done after they feast on your cheating partner.

But I’m weaker than a chicken in a tornado. So I’ll do the logistics, but can’t carry the dang body. Even if I wasn’t a weakess lil bitch, these days, my sciatica could never.

You need someone to help you do a deep dive on your latest Bumble dater du jour? I’ve got your back, Jack. We don’t need a repeat of when you dated Steve, the escaped convict who picked you up in a stolen police cruiser. Together we’ll get CIA-level deep in his socials, and figure out if the woman cropped out of his profile picture is his sister or third polygamist wife.

But I need to be in bed by 9 pm. No, I won’t be sleeping by 9 pm, but I need my wind-down time. So even if we’re out there being partners in crime, our terrorizing of Gotham needs to be done in daylight.

When you inevitably do something embarrassingly stupid, like throw up in a Bouncy Castle because you’re in your 40s and have vertigo and a bad back, I’ll help. Well, as soon as we’re done uncontrollably laughing.

Gif by Booksmart on Giphy

But your antickery hijinx needs to happen early. But not too early. I need to be home by 9 pm, but I’m also a night hawk. So I’m not getting up for morning hikes that start at 6 am. Find a fellow morning lark friend, and you two can wake up at 4 am together to go get smoothies before starting your 5 am workout. I’m more of a brunch-and-beyond bestie.

When you get a case of the sads, I’m going to walk right into your house (knocking is for bitches who aren’t besties) and start an impromptu pillow fight. You’ll either engage or lose, but either way, you’ll be out of bed. If all you want to do is lie on the floor, I’ll build a blanket fort around you and we’ll chill there.

But I’m gonna need a lot of pee breaks.

I can pack water in like a camel, so I pee like a race horse on game day.

You’ll know that I love you when I come up with a series of increasingly weird nicknames for you. It’ll start cute, like Munchkin Von Snugglebutt. It’ll progress to Tits Mcgee. It’ll end with me calling you something like FuckNugget.

By the way, one of us is going to be more stable; the other will be utterly off their fucking nut. We’ll take turns because mental stability is fleeting. And we’ll have the most fun when we’re both off our nut.

But, I’ll probably need some naps in between.

I’m going to be broke. If you’re not, we’re still going to do broke people things. Like people watch, because it’s free, and the world has an endless parade of absolute nutjobs. Sometimes we’ll be the nutjobs, and the people will be watching us.

Gif from Will & Grace on Giphy

But you’ll probably have to feed me, either during or between activities. I get a bit feral when I’m forced into fasting mode.

I’m going to do weird things, like putting googly eyes on all the condiments in your fridge. You’ll retaliate by taping a harmonica under my car. This will continue until we’re either committed to an asylum — or dead.

I’ll watch your baby so you can take a much-needed nap/bath/scream. But it’ll have eyebrows drawn on it when you get back.

I’ll watch your dog while you’re away, but I’ll photoshop pictures of it doing weird things and send them to you at random times.

We’ll build some things up. We’ll burn other things down. Regardless, it’ll be a vibe either way.

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These are the tenets of friendship between Swiss Army friends. Why ‘Swiss Army’? Because the Swiss are multifunctional and the average soldier is kookier than a sack of rabid weasels, in the best possible way.

Or at least all the soldiers I ever knew were. If you want to have the weekend of your life, tag along with a group of army dudes on a weekend pass. They’ll cram more life into 48 hours than you thought humanly possible.

So, Swiss Army friends — we’re multifunctional, get-’er-done types, but we also come with a list of non-negotiable demands. Like feeding us when we’re hangry, but never after midnight because we’re feral Gremlins at heart.

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You Can Feed This Gremlin If You Want

Writers are a hungry bunch. This one needs Doritos and tuna melts. And I’d absolutely love your support at any level that’s comfortable for you…

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Don’t have any money? Don’t worry, me neither, and I still love you.