Friends: they drive you crazy

My friend walks into French Friday morning and begins ...
if you guessed complaining, you win. She shows me her lovely, clean, new white and black vans and I tell her(sincerely) that they look nice. She continues to tell me taht her sister had nagged her a great deal when she discovered my friend had gotten said shoes. I played the sympathetic friend, partly because I was sypmathetic but also because it was "the right thing to do". She goes on about how her sister always get's what she wans and she enver gets waht she wants, while I sit there agreeing (that's the thing with me: either I'm not talking at all, agreeing with everything said, or going against everything. There's rarely a middle ground.) Fast forward to about five minutes ago. She tell me about these new shoes she's gotten. Their flats. Their gold. Their "really pretty". I'm sure they'll get worn six times before they lose their special-feeling.