"I come from Des Moines. Somebody had to."

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...

Ah, Don Maclean, you gun.
You know what I've discovered? I think you aren't really 'best friends' with someone unless you've met their parents, or their dog, or both. Or been to their house, and seen their room. Actually, come to think of it, you probably don't know someone so well unless you've seen photos of them as a child, and eaten a meal with them, and even spent a night with them, and talked into the wee hours in the morning about something stupid. I mean, it's fine and dandy to see someone every day for like an hour but you don't really know them, do you? I mean, you don't know about their past, or how they exist within their ABODE, or any of that. You only really know them as THEIR FACE, and what THEY SAY, but not what THEY ARE. See? Difference.
I think I have a fair few friends, but I don't have many like that. They're the SPESH ONES, as my mum would say. The ones that keep you truckin! <-- terrible metaphor. Seems weirdly kinky for some reason.