dedicated to my bestestest friend ever

This is my bestest of all friends Brooke. I know, she's way stinking hot. And this was just our first year of college - she's only gotten hotter over the years. She is the reason why I never stood a chance at dating the football team.

Well, and because in college, I looked like this:


Ok, really, I looked like this. But still, you can see how one can tend to feel gorilla-ish when your competition resembles Barbie.


Brooke and I were roommates for a few years. And the first time we met was while she was moving in. I was all close-minded and judgemental back in those days (and totally had a "woah, I'm too ugly for this" attitude) and I remember looking at her and thinking, "I'm going to hate you. Because you're hot. So I have to hate you. And I WILL HATE YOU. I know it."

Boy was I wrong.

Brooke will forever be my most favorite person on the face of this planet. If I were a good person, I would say say that my husband or our kids are my favorite. But, no. Brooke. Ok, ok, she ties with my husband and kids and maybe my mom, and sisters, and my other friends, and a few relatives, and some of my new bloggy friends, and the guy who delivers our Schwan's food, because I am really feeling pressure now that I'm naming an ultimate favorite person.

The sad part about all of this is that she lives like 2 gabillion miles away. How far is that? Because it might not sound far enough. Would it help if I said she lived on the moon? Because sometimes it feels like that far.

And we are both horrible HORRIBLE phone people. So we never talk. Not really anyway, but I do have converstations with her in my head sometimes. I wonder if she gets those? How good of friends do you have to be to have a telepathic connection? (And is it even possible to establish one of those with a husband, because I am SERIOUSLY doubting it.)

So here is my post about my love for my BFF of all time Brooke. Except I keep talking about myself and not her. So here goes:

Brooke can kick her leg really really high. Because you know those cheerleaders that they hold way up in the air and then throw around? Yeah, she was one of those. But one time she tried doing an ariel something something when she was all alone and broke her arm. Which was stupid.

Brooke, that was stupid. Why didn't you do it when I was around so that I could atleast freak out when it happened? I think I would have been really good at freaking out over that.

I went to Disneyland for the first (and only) time with Brooke and our friend JT. We have some good pictures. Oh yeah, and on the way she made me go on Wild Bill's Super Huge and Freaky Roller Coaster (or it was named something else. I don't know.) I hate roller coasters. I remember not wanting to go, but she made me anyway. On the ride I might have cried. Just a little. Atleast I didn't pee my pants.

When Brooke got married I sweat all over the bridesmaid dress. It was hot. SORRY.

Also she gave me a fish in a vase from her reception. I tried really really hard to keep that fish alive. In fact, it even made a move across state with me. And when it was dying Husband and I put it in a special bowl that we sat near the heater so that it would be warm enough. And then I talked to it for a few minutes so that it would remember me as a good pet owner and take happy thoughts to fishy heaven (even though I later flushed him down the loo.)

Brooke worked at Primary Children's Medical Hospital for awhile (before moving to the moon.) I never saw her there, but I bet she was practically saintly. Because she's just like that.

Except that once she told me this story about how she was driving home early in the morning and had to poop so bad that she pulled into some random person's driveway and crapped in a cup from the drivers seat and then left the cup in said driveway. I still don't believe her.

Brooke has the second cutest kids in the entire world -and I only say second cutest, because mine are the first cutest, naturally. Right after her first daughter turned 1 she found out she was pregnant with twins. More girls. Her husband grew up with one brother and Brooke didn't have any sisters. Man are they going to love the teenage years.

My very fav-o-ritest thing about Brooke is that when I talk to her on the phone (like once every 2 years) it's like we saw eachother yesterday. Except that these days we're so tired from our plethora of children that we don't have the energy to sustain a normal conversation. That and talking to adults confuses us (mommy brain.)

And so Brooke, if you are reading this - - and you better be, because I'm totally emailing you and telling you to get your butt over here to check it out - - thank you for moving into the same apartment as me 9 years ago. I miss you.

If you were a college football player, would you go for the cute blond cheerleader, or the girl in a baggy hoodie who has to hide under a hat because she dyed her hair by herself and the top of her head looks like someone lit it on fire and can only see the camera with one eye because that's just how I used to wear my hats?

Yeah, I'd go for Brooke too.