Childhood besties giving it their all despite total incompatibility as adults

"She'll be here any minute," Christine McBrangleton, 42, sighs.

"This is classic Annie. She's probably just late because she couldn't decide on the best hiking stilettos."

McBrangleton sits beside her guitar case in the middle of her apartment, studying a map to the rental cottage, her long, beaded, purple hair obscuring the front of her Sarah Harmer concert t-shirt.

"G — girls, um, girls' weekend!" she exclaims feebly, a tin of homemade nature bars at her feet. "Yay."

McBrangleton met her best and oldest friend Annie Borden in Senior Kindergarten when they were both just five years old. However, the things that bonded them back then – chiefly, crayon-based enthusiasm and prolonged fart noises – have somehow failed to sustain the women into their 40s.

"Truthfully, this friendship was already starting to feel like a bit of a slog by the time we turned nine," McBrangleton confesses. "That was when Annie started begging her parents to let her spend her summers at the Young Business Leaders Of Tomorrow Summer Funducational Workshop down in New York City. It was the same year she bought her first pinstriped pantsuit. Meanwhile, I'd just invented colour-poems."

McBrangleton gestures to her apartment walls, which are covered in hundreds of strips of mural paper dyed in a horizontal gradient from a light purple to a much darker purple with a single, enormous word in the centre, such as "GRATITUDE" or "DISASTER" or "GOATS."

"Listen, seriously though, Annie's done so well," McBrangleton rushes to explain as she leans back against a decorative pillow that reads 'TAROT CARDS ARE VALID.' She's the first female CEO of some kind of soulless corporation that encourages the kind of rampant capitalism that widens the inequality between people and destroys the environment. No, seriously, it's just wonderful." She rolls her eyes so hard that sound is involved.

McBrangleton, who owns AstroTurf socks, quickly collects herself and apologizes.

"I shouldn't insult Annie like that. It's a valuable friendship, it really is. All that history. I'm trying. Hard."

"That reminds me, though," she continues overtop of the sound of five different stereos playing five different Joni Mitchell albums at the same time. "I've made a list of conversation topics Annie and I unequivocally need to avoid at the cottage this weekend."

She takes a long, deep breath in.

"Money, politics, religion, the institution of marriage, feminism, parenting styles, globalization, sweatshops, so therefore all clothing, anything about the environment, body stuff, like anything about either of our physical forms, Zodiac signs, the Zodiac killer, animal rights, vegetarianism, paintball, men, women, children, chairs, water, food of any kind, horses, telephones, fax machines – the faxes themselves are okay though – Season 3 of Night Court, Dentyne Ice Arctic Faceblast gum, actually any gum, men's deodorant, hot glue guns, triple-A batteries, hay, like the stuff you find in a barn, the invention of cinnamon, Microsoft Word, Microsoft Excel, CPR, anything to do with the guy who played the wedding planner in 1991's Father of the Bride, door hinges, Pokémon, Wham!, George Michael's hair, the number sev –

There's a loud, insistent knock at the front door.

"Oh, and human knuckles," she adds. "Great ape knuckles still seem to be okay. For now."

Don't miss anything from CBC Comedy - like us on Facebook and Instagram.