Category Archives: bff

Jennifer Lawrence’s New Talk Show (a post by Lee)

BFF

BFF

Sometime in mid-2011, Liz, AM, and I discovered we were all equally obsessed with The Hunger Games. Since then, we’ve exchanged hundreds, if not thousands, of emails, arguing over who should be cast as Finnick, complaining about the inadequacy of The Cave Scene in the first movie, writing fanfiction about how The Cave Scene should have actually played out (in brief: LESS TALK, MORE ACTION), and (like the rest of America) fervently wishing Jennifer Lawrence were our real-life best friend.

In today’s email chain about this fantastic interview (J LAW! LOVE THE HAIRCUT. LOOKING GOOD, GIRL), I came up with a brilliant idea.

MAKE IT HAPPEN, AMERICA

MAKE IT HAPPEN, AMERICA

I immediately started brainstorming some ideas, which I have copied below.

J Laying Down The Law — she could be a judge! or give people reality checks!

Jennifer’s Furs/JenniFur — PLAYING WITH PETS, TALKING TO PETOWNERS, WEARING MINK COATS

Hell Nah with J Law — her catchphrase would be “hell nah!” I guess she’d say no to things a lot?

Blintz, Mints, and Jennifer Lawrence — a cooking and confectionery show, I guess

Chauffeur? No! It’s… JENNIFER! — this could be like cash cab, but instead jennifer lawrence is a limo driver taking people to the airport. she rolls down the window — BOOM IT’S JENNIFER EVERYONE’S SURPRISED then they get a free ride and she gets a plane ticket somewhere cool and takes me with her

Pardonnez-Moi, Monsieur; Je M’Appelle Jennifer — wherein jlaw tries to learn french, hijinx ensue

If any of y’all happen to know any TV producers, please let them know I’m available to discuss any of these terrific ideas further.

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Introducing My New Best Friend (a post by Lee)

Y’all. As of today at 11:22am Central Standard Time, I officially became a petowner.

Meet my Best Friend!

Meet my Best Friend!

You see, I have a history of making impulsive decisions. I regularly delude myself into thinking I’m a proper adult — I pay my bills on time, get my car detailed, and occasionally cook things made out of real vegetables. Then, inevitably, I go and do something like buy $135 worth of Harry Potter Lego to remind myself that I am basically an overgrown 12 year-old playing dress-up. (An aside: That actually was one of the better decisions I’ve ever made. It’s a great conversation piece, and Jordie and I while away many evenings playing Harry Potter. In our interpretation, Harry joins Team Voldemort, kisses then kills Hermione, and — if I am voicing him — possesses a terrible Cockney accent.)

Interestingly, this set doesn't include Ron.

Interestingly, this set doesn’t include Ron, so he’s never around to defend Hermione’s honor.

These urges are irrepressible. So when I woke up yesterday morning with the idea in my head that it could be fun to own a fish, I knew I was doomed. I contacted Jordie — generally the voice of fiscal reason in my life — to see how he felt about the idea. For a man who hates animals, he was surprisingly amenable:

email

Encouraged, I spent all of Friday afternoon researching good pet fish for beginners (Betta fish are best!), sending frenzied messages to anyone I thought might have relevant fish experience, and brainstorming potential names (Catherine Betta-Jones was obviously my preferred name for a ladyfish). I obsessed all day and night about getting a fish. You could say I was hooked.

Finally, this morning, the big moment came. Jordie and I got to PetSmart at about 10:45am. Unfortunately, that time coincided with the beginning of the puppy and kitten adoption session. A saleswoman thrust a small kitten into my arms, almost turning the story of “The Time I Got A Fish” to “The Time I Went To Buy A Fish And Instead Adopted 3 Kittens.”

I don't even like cats but was already imagining a beautiful future with this one.

I don’t even like cats but was already imagining a beautiful future with this one.

Somehow we extracted ourselves from the large animal section without buying a new furry friend and located the fish area. I picked out my Betta fish from the selection — a beautiful guy swimming about idly in his container who reeled me in with his attractive red scales. I left Big Red on the shelf while Jordie and I selected decorations for my tank. Y’all, there are some excellent tank decorations out there. I almost spent $7.99 on a fake, mossy Eiffel Tower — “We can teach him French!” — but it was too big. Tant pis! I eventually settled on the cheap minimalist option of some gravel and a miniature fake plant. When I returned to the Betta fish shelf, however, I noticed a fish that I liked even better than Big Red.

Conflict of emotions.

Conflict of emotions.

I was inherently and immediately drawn to More Exciting Fish. While, sure, Big Red was pretty and I liked him just fine right off the bat, More Exciting Fish swam around with intention and occasionally experienced what seem to be mild seizures. I was in love. Because of my crushing guilt complex, however, Jordie had to spend an unreasonable amount of time gently convincing me that Big Red’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt if I didn’t buy him. The conversation, all of which we later learned was overheard by the fish attendant, went something like this:

Lee: I love More Exciting Fish more than I love Big Red, but I told Big Red I was going to adopt him, so I feel like I have to take him.
Jordie: I think, with a big decision like this, you really need to go with what your heart desires. Big Red is going to be okay; I’m sure someone else will buy him soon. He’s beautiful.
Lee: What if he stops swimming because I spurned him? What if this is all a huge mistake? Is More Exciting Fish going to die from his seizure disorder, and then when I replace him with Big Red, is BR going to be a mean pet?
Jordie: I think you know what you really want and you just have to commit.

This continued for, no joke, 3 minutes before I finally took More Exciting Fish to the register. And, Dear Readers, what a mistake that WASN’T! I love MEF! He’s adjusted very well to life in my apartment. He swims constantly, although I worry about his appetite. It took him 45 minutes to eat all 4 pellets of his lunch. I performed First Day of My Life for him on the ukulele to let him know how happy I was that he’s my pet now, and he demonstrated his appreciation with one of his trademark seizures.

MEF remains, at this point, nameless. I’m temporarily calling him 610 after the interstate that defines Inner Houston. I simply haven’t yet been inspired by a name adequate enough to encompass his wonderful personality, but I probably will be soon. I’m sure he doesn’t mind waiting. Betta late than never, after all.

Anna Mâché Smith (a tribute by Jordie and Lee)

So Anna Marie left us today to move to New York. We’ve been feeling pretty low (or, in Jordie’s words, “grief-stricken”) about it all day. Then we discovered something Anna Marie left behind.

Two years ago, for Anna Marie’s 23rd birthday, Jordie and I crafted a papier-mâché bust of AM’s head.

This took about a week.

We presented it to her on her birthday, fully expecting applause and squeals of delight. She was mostly confused.

Bust a move

Anna Marie moved away from Houston today. Jordie and I mourned her departure all afternoon. But then we discovered Anna Mâché on a shelf in our costume closet. It’s like she never left!

We played board games:

She lost.

Then we watched some TV:

Her favorite show is America’s Funniest Home Videos.

We drank champagne to celebrate living together in Houston:

Houston or Bust!

Then we sang some karaoke:

She was a bit flat.

We even took a nap!

Anna Mâché sucks at napping.

While we’ve enjoyed our time with Anna Mâché, nothing can replace hanging out with the real Anna Marie. We miss you already, Mar, and please don’t forget to pay this month’s rent.

Big News! (a post by Lee)

Attention world: Starting in August, Anna Marie is going to grad school in America’s greatest city: Houston New York!

for the record, she was in heels.

While I am super excited for AM and the adventures that await her, I’m also experiencing a bit of nostalgia and, in moments of self honesty, sadness.

Anna Marie and I were semi-randomly paired together as roommates our junior year, when we served as hall counselors to a floor of 19 freshman girls. Despite having talked on the phone almost daily over the summer (our conversations consisting of matters most important, such as which costumes we’d be contributing to the costume trunk and whether or not AM was okay with me affixing a huge photo of Barbara Walters to our wall [the answer was yes]), we really didn’t know each other particularly well. Regardless, we hit it off immediately, becoming inseparable to the point where our names were practically synonymous.

Then we left Davidson and both decided to move to Houston; Anna Marie for a job and me on a whim/in a vain attempt to woo Jordie. We took the city by storm, encouraging each other to go out and meet people even when all we wanted to do was hide in our apartment and play World of Warcraft. Again, our identities merged — our new friends referred to us as twins — as we did nearly everything in tandem.

A lot has changed since those first few months in Texas. We’ve found friends (believe it or not) and jobs, and have really created a home here. And while we’ve grown increasingly independent, we’ve always had each other around to peer pressure into going out on a Tuesday night lean on. I guess what I’m saying is, as our time together in Houston is coming to an end, I realize how incredibly lucky I truly am to have had someone as amazing as Anna Marie help me navigate this new city. Thanks, girl.

All Good Days End with Dream Phone (a post by Anna)

When friends visit Houston, we sometimes pretend we are extremely classy. Lee’s pen pal Alix was in town last weekend, so a trip to the Houston Polo Club was in order. We brought out our inner southern belles by suiting up in sun dresses and hats, hoping to give off an air of high society. Based on our last experience at the polo club, we were dressed for success.

Now try to imagine the surprise when, en route, our friend Meredith called to say The Sport of Kings had been canceled due to the prior week’s flooding.

So much for ponies and chukkers and stomping divots.

But when life gives you lemons, make lemonade! Considering our attire, we briefly brainstormed upper-class activities. We are also extremely cheap frugal, so our choice needed to be practically free. Which is why we decided on croquet.

I've heard this is how people go shopping in Dallas.

Once arriving at our humble abode of mismatched furniture hand-me-downs, we made mint juleps and snacks from supplies found living in our fridge.

Lee is a very hands-on helper.

I tried to quickly rectify the porch-chairs-covered-in-pollen situation so that we could leisurely drink from from aged tea cups and reap the benefits of Alix’s impromptu culinary creation, rum cake!

Here we are having a blast.

The afternoon progressed to include a lovely game of croquet in our park. Due to our croquet inexperience, the wickets were arranged in terrible positions that unexpectedly required impossible uphill putting and constant changes in grass texture. If nothing else, this magnified the challenge of the match.

Lee demonstrates perfect form with her mallet.

Acknowledging the fact that the only type of games in which I excel are board games, I trailed behind my opponents who continually made impressive comebacks to lead one another. I spent most of the experience fair-weather-fanning the current leader and tapping my poor little croquet ball far behind the rest.

The Serious Competitors

Unrelated to our upper-class evening theme, we ended the night with a blast from the past. Dream Phone is compulsory to a successful evening.

He looks good in whatever he wears.

Happy Birthday, Alix! (a song by Lee)

So, as y’all know, in July of 2011, Forever Young Adult gifted me with the world’s greatest pen pal who’s since become my awesome friend, Alix.

Photo taken in January 2012, during our first and thus far only extensive hangout.

When Alix visited me in New Jersey, she concocted the idea that Remy and I start a band. “But we can’t sing,” I protested. She responded to this declaration by sending me a mix CD entitled “People Who Are Terrible Singers Vol. 1.” And so, emboldened by this mix, I wrote a song on the ukulele to celebrate today, her 25th birthday. Remy helpfully lent his vocal and guitar talents to the cause, and the family band was thus created!

And so I present to you Alix and the Mimmses’ first hit single “Age Quarter Century,” set to a familiar tune. Follow along with the lyrics here.

Happy birthday, Alix!

In Honor of Robert (a post by Lee)

Today is Robert’s 25th birthday! Robert is one of my dearest friends from Davidson and, also, an icon.

I met Robert a few days into our freshman year, when he sashayed onto my hall and announced he was converting our lounge into his “second closet.” Not a month later, he started using my closet to store his wet clothes. Homeboy had a lot of clothes.

Robert quickly became a ubiquitous presence on our hall and also an eminent character on campus. That fate is hard to avoid, of course, when you’re both 6’6″ and wonderful. When he studied abroad in France second semester of sophomore year, I so profoundly suffered from his absence that I created popsicle stick Roberts, personalized for specific situations. Examples included: “Masticating Robert” for trips to the Commons, “Jackie O Robert” for any event requiring elegance, and “Party Robert” for self-explanatory occasions.

His glorious return to campus in the fall of our junior year was a time of much excitement. Most of our class studied abroad that year, so Anna Marie, Robert, and I engaged in a lot of quality time together. We wasted hours upon hours binge-eating pretzels, watching YouTubes of cats (Robert’s favorite hobby), and playing in the costume trunk. I don’t remember us getting a lot of work done, although I have a vivid memory of the night I cranked out a 25-page paper in one sitting while Robert read two entire books so we could be prepared for our 8:30 class the next morning. That night, by the way, was both a personal highlight and lowlight of my college career.

Robert spoiled me by becoming my roommate senior year. I gained insight into his more private peculiarities, a favorite being his habit of spending Sunday mornings eating chips and salsa in his bathrobe while watching Gone With the Wind.

Of course, all good things must end, and we eventually left the Davidson bubble to flounder in the real world be productive citizens. I don’t get to see or talk to Robert on the daily, as I used to, but fortunately our friendship is so easy and strong that when we do see each other, we pick up just where we left off: drinking cheap beer laughing.

Happy birthday, Robert darling! Here’s a cat video for you: