I have this friend named B.S.
No, this is not a joke.
B.S. stands for something different entirely, but I don't know whether or not it's nice to mention other people's names on my blog. Because, you know, three people totally read this blog. And I didn't ask her permission.
Also, B.S. sounds mysterious and fun.
And, people? B.S. is fun.
Like, totally the mostiest funnest ever.
I met B.S. a long time ago, when I was 18 and working as a newbie in a famous-but-unmentionable chain restaurant in Ann Arbor.
B.S. knew all kinds of things that i didn't know: how to sneak food into the love shack to eat while you were working, how to sneak under-age me into bars, how to pee outside without peeing on your cute bar clothes, and many other things.
I'll just put it this way.
Things were learned. Fun was had. Things were done which I would only ever repeat to a very select and small group of people*, but 99% of those things are things that I would never, ever take back.
I would fight you for them.
And I would win, because B.S. taught me how to be tough, too.
***here, if you are B.S.--or are someone who knows what I'm talking about when I say B.S.--you should envision breast-shaped coffee mugs (look, I can steal stuff, too!), peeing on boats of people we hate, a jager room, and possibly a coke machine next to the wall of a hotel in the Florida keys. Among other things, of course. fun things, people. Because we are cool girls.***
Anyway, one day B.S. moved away.
And then she moved back because she was getting married and she was pregnant.
Of course, that's not the whole story.
To sum it up, B.S. first moved to Ohio, which was very sad, but still fun because I could totally drive down to visit her very, very often. And then we would get drunk and pee on boats. Then one day B.S. decided to move to Florida, because boys are assholes. And that was very sad because it is very much more difficult to drive to Florida than it is to drive to Ohio. Still, drives were made. Once B.S. has entered your life, you can only go so long without some quality (drunken) B.S. time. Anyway, the point is B.S. met Mr. Right on her look-at-me-I-live-in-Florida adventure, and she and Mr. Right moved back to Michigan to have a baby.
And life was complete again.
Because B.S. was near to me.
B.S. and Mr. Right did not know what flavor of baby they were going to have. On Febuary 6th, 2002, they had a beautiful baby girl who was immediately given eleventy hundred pink outfits which I ran out and bought as soon as possible because I have a shopping problem.
As time has passed, I have continued to buy many clothes for this beautiful baby girl, for several reasons--the above mentioned shopping problem, and also because I love B.S. and I know that she wants her beautiful baby to be in high fashion, which is hard to find in the middle of butt-fucking-nowhere, Michigan, where they live.
Anyway, I went to visit them the other day, with--of course, a little bag of clothing-goodies for the beautiful baby--who is now 3 and a half.
As we were showing her the clothes, she picked up a shirt and looked at me, and she said "oooh, tiffunny. yu awways get me pwesents."
And I swear it was the most adorable thing I ever heard.
I only ever bought her the clothes because I wanted her to have the cutest everything.
I know that B.S. and Mr. Right weren't exactly planning to have a child when the beautiful baby entered their lives, and I know that having a baby--no matter how beautiful--can't be easy, and I just wanted to offer whatever support I could.
That support turned out to be clothes, because of the previously mentioned shopping problem.
Still, when I heard the beautiful baby say that--it was special.
Is that bad?
I mean, I know we're not supposed to confuse material things with love and all that.
But I'm glad that the beautiful baby knows that I care about her.
And her parents.