Ode to P, My BFF: Happy Birthday!

When your TGIM and your kiddos are all the way across the country and everyone else– except for ONE of your FIVE siblings– yes! even including your MOTHER!– forgets that it is your very happy birthday, and you wake up lonely and depressed because, hello?! birthday breakfast in bed?! presents?! tradition?! does no one care about TRADITION?!, do you know what the one thing that could make it better would be? DO YOU?!

Well, yeah, a guest starring role as a Horrible Evil Sidekick in Joss Whedon’s next internet musical venture, sure, but I meant the OTHER thing. The thing where you hear pounding on your front door, so you run downstairs in your comfy pajamas and crazy bed hair because you were feeling too sorry for yourself to make any kind of effort, you know?, and who is standing there but your BFF holding a ginormous paper bag from McDonald’s.

And you smell bacon.

“I didn’t know what you usually get for your birthday breakfast in bed, so I got a little of everything,” Paige said as she pushed past me into the house. “Now go get back in bed!”

And dammit if I didn’t scamper upstairs and plop into bed! After I snapped out of the bacon-smell-induced euphoria that held me quick, that is.

Paige followed and we spent the next hour eating all sorts of (nasty yet somehow delicious) McDonald’s breakfast food while I introduced her to the joys (and sorrows) of Dr. Horrible.

I know, right?

Who could ask for a better BFF? Not I.

So, happy birthday right back at’cha, Paige. I would have returned the favor, but you’re off on adventures, so this meager happy birthday wish will have to do.

I hope your day is SCRUMPTRILESCENT. You know what I mean.

Love ya, P.