Agnes Hug Me

Last night I was having drinks with a friend and she told me a most hilarious story. I told her that I wanted to write about it in my blog. We were trying to come up with a name I could use to represent her, to protect her superhero identity. We came up with a couple of choices, but then I remembered this story:
A few months ago, I received a friend request on facebook from someone whose screen name was "Phil McCrackin." It's been awhile since I was 12, so, although I knew this sounded familiar to me, I didn't really get it. The person accompanied the request with a message that indicated that he did, in fact, know me, as there were details he mentioned that a stranger couldn't possibly know. I wracked my brain trying to figure out who this might be. Later that week, I was at my friend's (the same one from last night) place with several other ladies, and we were talking about this mysterious friend request. I said the name "Phil McCrackin" out loud several times and NONE of us heard Fill My Crack In. My friend suggested that I check my high school yearbooks WHICH I ACTUALLY DID! Obviously, I did not find him. A few days later, I'm on what I think is a date with this boy that I sort of had a thing for at the time and we are having a conversation about weird shit that goes on on facebook. Naturally, I relate this story. As soon as I say the words, "Phil McCrackin" to this guy, I realize what's up. Because I am extremely cool, I play it off to him as though I've known all along what's going on. In the meantime, I receive several other messages from this mysterious FB tool. Turns out, I knew him briefly in high school and he joined FB just to find out what I was up to and he used a made up name because he didn't want his wife or his 4 kids to know. Ugh. So, I'm back at my girl's house and we're having a few drinks. I explain that the mystery has been solved and that Phil is, indeed, a douche. She starts laughing really hard and says, "Oh, hahaha, like when Bart Simpson calls Moe's bar and asks for Agnes Hug Me?" I say, "Do you mean Amanda Huginkis?" to which she answers, "Yeah, that." Thus, Phil McCrackin is synonymous with a-hole and Agnes Hug Me (AHM) is the name I will use for my friend in my blog.
So, AHM tells me last night that while she was visiting her hometown recently, her mother suggested that they have a ladies' day at the spa. AHM's mother is the sort that sends her 5LB bags of rice in the mail so she can give her face a rice bath and who threatens (legitimately)to steal her child if she ever has one out of wedlock. AHM thinks that the offer of a relaxing spa treatment is delightful, so she hops in the car with her mother and they take a little drive. Her mother pulls up to a curb and announces that they have arrived at their destination. AHM looks up and realizes that she has been driven to a fertility clinic. When AHM questions her mother, her mother reveals that she thinks its a good idea for AHM to have her eggs frozen before they shrivel up and are no good. WHAT?!!!? AHM is in her early (ish) 30s! Horrified, AHM hails a cab and departs the scene without stepping foot in the clinic. While she's telling me this story, she is amazingly good-natured about the whole incident. This is actually on the lower scale of crazy for her mother. I cannot image dealing with this sort of behavior. It made me realize that when AHM does eventually have children, I know that she will be a fantastic mother and have an incredibly high tolerance for the absurd.