In honor of her 30th birthday (and the fact that I'm a shitty friend because I forgot to do anything better than a blog) I will dedicate this blog to fun things about PPP.
The first time I met PPP it was at a coffee house in St. Louis. She was still married and telling a group of people about bending her then husband over the back of the couch and fucking him in the ass with a dildo. She's 4'11", he was 6'something ridiculous. Later when he turned out to be a complete fuck, I comforted myself with the thought that at least she'd shown him his place at one time or another.
PPP throws herself at the world. It is possibly her most endearing quality. At a skate park once I saw her relentlessly run up the side of a quarter pipe five or six times trying to get to the top. She'd run up the side, then slide down it on her stomach unable to get to the top, then do it over again. She had strawberries galore covering the insides of her arms and stomach which she showed us with a grin when she finally made it to the top.
She usually eats with the same enthusiasm. She does not take just a simple bite but smiles as she shovels food into her mouth and pours mounds of hot sauce onto anything remotely related to a potato. When she was first pregnant, I once watched her throw up in her own hand, run to the bathroom to flush it and wash her hands, then return to eating with a far-too-pleased-with-herself grin.
This enthusiasm made an appearance at my wedding where PPP got so drunk (in absolute celebration-no one has been a bigger champion of my relationship with Rob than her) that she locked herself in the bathroom but thinking she was stuck in the hallway proceeded to pound on the door and cry "Let me in" to her hotel roommates. When they opened the door she fell somersaulting through the room and finally gave up the fight to sleep on the floor where she landed.
When her jerkass husband cheated on her with a fat unattractive bitch, I made her a CD with "Phatty Girl" by Ludacris and "Ugly Girl" by Fiona Apple on it to make her smile. She refused to make payments on the car in order to fuck his credit and just before the vehicle was to be repossessed let him know where it would be and left the CD in the player for him when he came to pick it up.
One night at the bar, PPP made a bet with a guy that she could beat him at arm wrestling. He was a big dude well over 6 feet tall. He had to buy a round of Sandenista's (nasty tabasco drink) when she beat him. I found out later, she'd bet my phone number.
I can tell endless entertaining stories about the Pixie. She prides herself on being a good party girl. And that's true. She jokes that she's vain, shallow, and conceited, and that's a little true too. But really she's an amazing friend. When my step father died three days before my wedding, I was with her and it was a comfort. It was good to be with the only friend I have that I can say "I need you to leave me the fuck alone for a few minutes" and she completely understands and is not offended. I don't have to pussy foot around her nor she me. And I know I can count on her. I know whether is a death in my family or my wedding day, she'll throw herself into it, bringing tiara's and tissues. I know whether I want to drink myself into a stupor teasing strangers, or hike for days, she's an everything friend and it'll be awesome with her. I know whether I want to talk about osmosis or obstetrics or obama, she's my girl.
So Happy 30th Pretty Pixie. I wish I could be there to be part of your everything.
I quit. Sort of.
2 days ago