(disclaimer: this blog will contain some serious language of the “F” variety. Sorry mom….)
So I said a blog or two back that I would probably tell the story of how I became Fanny and how Amy became Mackenzie. That time is NOW. Also, if you’ll continue reading you’ll see more adventures of Maverick and Iceman beyond the nickname story. Brace yourself friends, it’s going to be a long one.
maverick and iceman.
You know how you have friends that you can’t imagine your life without? Well, Amy is one of those people. It was fate from the beginning. We both accepted internships at TOMS Shoes out in Santa Monica. Well, for me it was “out” in Santa Monica, for her it was more “up.” For those of you that don’t know, TOMS is a shoe company that gives away a pair of shoes to a child in need everytime they sell a pair of shoes, one for one giving. It’s actually an amazing company. You can check it out here. This internship was a fairly serious commitment for the 12 of us that were selected. We were to get paid $50 a week mainly for food and live in a 3 bedroom condo – 4 bunk beds to a room. Amy and I did not end up in the same room, unfortunately, but we did end up spending most of our time together. How you ask?
Either the second or third day in Santa Monica, a few of us piled in the car to go find an Italian food restaurant. Now, you should know we were all still playing nice at this point. Everyone on their best behavior, still finding out about each other. What we knew so far was that there were several in the house that were fairly religious and one that was afraid of ice, though that’s a different story all together. Back to the car though. No one could find this restaurant and no one wanted to decide on a different one. After about 8 u-turns we found the place. Only, it was closed. Never to be opened again. Ugh. With another U-turn looming, Amy screamed, “FUCK!!! Someone just fucking decide what we are having to eat!” It was then, amongst all of the Jesus freaks and teenage Hanson fans in the car, I decided Amy and I would be fast friends. I think I was the only one that laughed that day in the car. She cursed, I laughed, after that we were basically inseparable. Not in a creepy way. More in a – I get why you’re here and I get why they’re here but I like you better so will you be my work desk, car pool buddy even though we drive 2 of the 4 cars available -kind of way.
Your face and shriiiimp!!! "I was spitting cobra venom." image by cobrasnake
And that friends, that is just the beginning.
Fast forward to Halloween ’07. Jonathan was running around the office in a sponge bob costume made for a 5 year old. Seriously. Half the staff was leaving the next day for South Africa. Blake (or Tom…) was in the office so everyone was already a little in panic mode. Somehow we all made it to the Ivy in Santa Monica – that’s right the paparazzi hangout the Ivy – and we had a reserved room. Candice knows people. So here we are, traipsing through like we are important: sponge bob, hobo and movie star (b-lister, no biggie), all together now. Candice made the grave mistake of ordering round after round of vodka gimlets. And those bitches were strong. Amy made the mistake of driving that day, thus being the designated driver. I made the mistake of sitting next to one Sean Carasso and trying to go drink to drink with him. A lot of mistakes were clearly made. I rehashed the beer pong story (“You better drink that shit, bitch!”) to the blushing Hollywood starlet and eventually pulled a gimlet over with my boob. Wasn’t the first, and probably not the last time my boobs will get me in trouble but, alas, I have veered off topic again. Eventually we all get back to the commune, I mean apartment and have a few more drinks. More TOMS family comes over, we all hang out, I am shouting at my mother because she KNOWS I’m drunk and I’m trying to convince her otherwise. Now, this is where the night gets blurry and I refuse to try to remember any of my actions. I think it was my game plan then as well.
The next morning, I come downstairs – looking like hell I’m quite sure, and start talking to Amy. We recount the events of the night before that we can remember and are calmly reminded of a few more events we (or at least I) should probably try fairly hard to forget. Amy, Amy McKinney, then asks me plain as day, “Stephanie, what’s my last name?” and I said, “…..McKinney? right? Is this a trick?” And immediately she is cracking up laughing. I am still quite confused. Do I know my friends last name or not? Why’s she laughing? What did I do? As it turns out, in my drunkenness the night before, I started getting all Texas on everyone and saying, “Mackenzie….I luuuve you. You’re the best.” “Mackenzie, I’m glad we’re friends” “Mackenzie, you’re purdy funny.” Mackenzie this, that, and anything else you can think of. From then on, it stuck and never went away. I find it difficult to say McKinney to this day but laugh anytime I do.
I am the border. - Mackenzie.
Any now, Fanny. Stephanie becomes Fanny pretty easily and with little explanation. Stefanny. Fanny. There you have it. While this might not be as in depth of a story, it is still quite hilarious.
Papa Mackenzie (as he’s known in my world) is sort of fabulous in a big way. He is a kind man with a big heart and tends to just look the other way when Amy and I are in a giggle fit or being silly or trying to sneak booze into Disneyland. Amy had called me Fanny for quite a while and nothing about it. I went to Europe for about 6 weeks 2 years ago and Mackenzie was my planning friend. This was the natural role for her as I am going to get famous and someone is going to pay me and a sidekick (Ahem, Mackenzie) to travel the world. Apparently she was on the phone with me one day while her dad was within earshot. He heard her call me Fanny and said, “Make sure you don’t call her vagina while she’s overseas!”
Now, here is the time when the natural reaction is what the hell did you just say? And amid the laughter and tears caused by said laughter, I believe this question was asked. The explanation that we managed to piece together between the giggles and short gasps of air was that in the UK, fanny is another name for vagina. I think it was partly funny because of the content and partly funny because the explanation was coming from Papa Mac. So in the past 6-8 months, Amy has been running around town talking about her friend, Vagina. So naturally, Fanny stuck. Never to go away again, I’m sure (random sidenote: I was in NYC with my friend Lindsey and we went to a comedy show. The comedian’s opening line was, “Cunt, pussy, fanny. Only one of these is a swear word in England, and it’s fanny.” I was already doubled over laughing and wanting to text Amy. Those are the moments I live for).
Not to get all sentimental on you or anything, but everyone needs a friend like this. It’s harder for me to leave people like Mackenzie – even though she lives 1500 miles away – than it is to leave work or Dallas or even my beloved Stars. I made her promise me earlier that we could still have our gchat dates and that she would visit. I know I will have a blast in Japan and I know that she of all people really will visit but sometimes I just think, why didn’t I just move to San Diego? Get a duplex on the beach? Speak English most days? Hang out with this gal and laugh A LOT?
mackenzie in monahans.
san diego zoo.
And this little gem just in. This is real time, live facebook chatting blogging friends:
and speaking of candice, i was driving the other day and busted up because i remembered cutting cheese, bread rounds, shrimp in the bath tub and me having to go pick up candice at the airport and her flight was super late so i kept having to do cicrles and you were having a nervous breakdown at the condo
i laughed sooooo hard
and i dont even know what made me think of it, but i was dying on the way home from riverside
why was i having a nervous breakdown
shit, i’m laughing in the hotel
you were having a nervous breakdown because there was fucking shrimp in our bathtub and you were trying to toast a whole trunk full of bread.
in one oven.
I love us.
jesus was our savior. he cut the bread that day.
we starting drinking at disneyland AFTER the teacups. who said we weren't smart?
san diego to dallas road trip. the thing pitstop in dragoon, az. no really, dragoon.
I would like to take the time now to emphasize the fact that Mackenzie and I are not in fact lesbian lovers. We are both quite the fan of our male counterparts. Someday though, our husbands are going to have to deal with the wife’s best friend living next door. Just sayin’