Good friends drag you out for dinner and dancing Friday after work when you’re feeling blue.

*Great* friends go up to Nicholas Brendan while he’s reading a script at Senses in Toronto and ask for his autograph for you, even though they hate approaching celebrities because it’s unCanadian behaviour.

**Super great** friends put up with unexpected, unwanted and wildly inappropriate guests that follow you to dinner, who stay until last call in an unsuccessful bid to get laid, despite your desperate attempts to suggest their presence is not entirely welcomed.

I have good, great, super great friends.