Salmon, Friends, and a Faucet.

This afternoon Verona and I went over to a friend’s house so the kids could get their play on and us moms could sit back and enjoy the chaos without having to be involved… oh the joys of friends. 

It’s gorgeous outside (haha, January in Phoenix) so we let the wild things roam free.  They, as children often do, found the best way to get messy which was the faucet on the side of the house.  They had a blast walking into the stream, holding their hands over the end so it sprayed everywhere, and trying to drink out of it.  It was precious.

Kristen and I are now responsible adults (sorta), organizing playdates, making grilled salmon and mixed veggies for lunch, and doing belly henna when one of us is pregnant.  Don’t be deceived though!  It was not all that long ago that we were crazy-times buddies… getting into all sorts of shenanigans, usually involving rum and cokes and lotto tickets.  For your amusement here is…

My Official Top Three List of the Best Jenna/Kristen Shenanigans

1. There was this trashy bar right by her old house that we would go get our rum and cokes at while our husbands got all nerd-love on each other (read: played video games).  One night we got a group of the oldest bikers in the world… think, Methuselah in black leather… to buy us drinks all night long because they were amused by our crazy stories.

2. One night, not too long after we met, we decided over dinner at California Pizza Kitchen that we needed to do something to celebrate our mutual awesomeness, but instead of sharing a dessert like normal people we decided the only logical course of action was to go, right then and there, and get what may well be the worst matching tattoos ever… on our big toes. 

3. One night after many rum and cokes we drunkenly stumbled to the nearest Circle K to buy scratcher lotto tickets, met a hooker named Chastity (I’m still not sure if she was confused by what the word meant or was calling herself that ironically), and after losing all the money we had on us on failed lotto tickets, invited our new friend to have lunch with us the next day.  We sat in California Pizza Kitchen nursing our hangovers for an hour the next morning but she stood us up.  Moral of the story?  Never trust a hooker with questionable English skills.


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