Cross Your Cans

I’m the other half of Midnight Eggs. The lazier, messier, angrier half. The half that my dear friend who started Midnight Eggs patiently listens to, finds a way to make me laugh, and reminds me that we’re survivors — no matter what.

For years we’ve had a tradition. When we need luck in our life — which has ranged from our health, health of our loved ones, jobs (mostly jobs), or just things we really fucking want and are hoping will go our way we send out the memo: “Cross your cans.” To us, we know exactly what that means. Recently a male friend of ours said he’d cross his cans, too. This delighted us to no end because he had no idea what it actually ┬ámeant but he picked up the on the right sentiment — when your friend needs you, you cross your cans.

My smarter half will remember the origin story far better than I will but “Cross Your Cans” originated probably in the late 1990s. I was working with one of the most charismatic, hilarious, kind-hearted women I had met (or will ever meet) in my career. I completely forget how it came up (most likely a job or a promotion) but she said “Cross your cans,” like, “Cross your fingers.” She was a Howard Stern fan and I think she fell in love with the expression “cans” for boobs. It took. And soon we were crossing our cans for each other, about love, about family, about — well, anything a friend would cross her cans for another friend when called upon.

Long-running joke aside, we have never had to cross our cans for each other more in the last few years than we did in the previous decade. And our tits fucking hurt. As a group of supportive, loving (and well endowed) females, we have seen each other through the loss of jobs, husbands, homes, family issues, and — sadly — hope. But we have always had each other and our magnificent cans that boost each other up and let each other know that not only our are cans magical but our support and love are stronger than any one problem we are feeling as an individual. Our cans are a form of solidarity. Of course, we bitch when we have to cross our cans too long because the struggle with ptosis is real, but when the call goes out, the cans get crossed, and the most positive and loving vibes are sent.

But, Jesus, girls. Can we all buy each other great push-up bras one Christmas when life is finally okay and we’re not crossing anything for once? We’ll get there. Us and our magical, stretched out cans.

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