Before the age of 14 I had about negative 2 friends and that was rough.

Then on my first day of eighth grade, I finally was not the only person waiting at my bus stop. Which was kind of weird because my bus stop was my front yard... and my neighbor was a 70 year-old man...

So it turned out that his granddaughter was living with him and he wasn't the unsuspecting father of a random 14 year old girl which was pretty cool. She ended up being a raging bitch with the most asinine taste in clothing. This dipwad wore yellow plaid with purple shoes. Yet within the first year of her existence in my life, she made more friends than I ever had up until this point. Mostly because of her emo-inspired raccoon extensions and shit style, I'm sure. Once, we had a fight over whether her flimsy forever 21 shirt was red or pink and she kicked me out of her house. She kicked me off the seat next to her on the bus the next day when I tried to rekindle our friendship. Honestly, I just had to because I only used her for her Guitar Hero.

Still, even though we probably really were not good friends, she was my best friend.

I should mention that she actually has mellowed out a helluva lot since the good old days, but I'm still abhorred by her behavior since she's strung out on government cheese and some addiction to backwards boyfriends with teeth they probably inherited from their jackass (the donkey kind) of a dad. She literally asks me for advice countless times just to do the opposite of what I suggest. She also (with our broke-ass bank accounts) wants us to move to New York post-grad when we can probably barely afford the glamour that is Philadelphia. So she still pisses me off regularly, and it really keeps me grounded.

While sucking on her 101 dalmatian plush-toy dog that's since turned gray's ear, she consistently reads my tweets. I'll sign on to Twitter thinking I've started a fan base- and I do, but it's a party of one. When I think I've hidden some heartbroken revelation about my day, she texts me to assure me that everything's okay. She also lets me yell 24/7 about my own problems- even when I callously yell at her for hers. She bought me insanely large flip-flops of Mr. T saying "I pity the poo" for my birthday and gave them to me publicly on my senior year. There is also no one else who will understand the dramatic effect the title "Joshaholic" has on me and my urinary tract. She's the Sheila to my Diane Court, because I probably wouldn't have finally excelled so much in a math class if it wasn't for our competitive streak that led to yet another ridiculous falling out.

Only she can appreciate the introduction of a tale regarding a surfer, an Israeli with a ukulele, and a "poopy" Spaniard named Javi. And a lot of people will pretend they gather the weight of Coco in the grand scheme of my sexual awakening, but she'll top them a million times over. I tried my first tampon under the pressure of her coaching me. She didn't even use tampons until like 3 years later... Although Mr. Carboni is a highly regarded soul in my life, he could not have been more wrong when he said we were a pair that shouldn't be friends. Actually... he's probably right but whatever.

Basically- it's pretty amazing she's still my friend. It's funny that I've had people leave my side and I never so much as blinked, but Amanda Robinson is a shit stain in the underwear of my life that can never be bleached away.

P.S. She told me to write about her- otherwise I'd just neglect her like she did the whole first year of our friendship. Plus it is kind of cool to have a friend who starred in Halloweentown.