Posted By startswithanx on May 4, 2009

If we didn’t know it already, Miranda, Samantha and I all discovered we aren’t 22 anymore this past weekend. Not because we hit up Forever 21 and couldn’t understand why they shrunk all their clothes. Nor because drivers gave us a polite “no, thank you” and rolled up their windows when we flashed them our boobies.

No, no, no. We made our little discovery Saturday night. It came after hours of painting our faces and strapping on painful platforms. As we left our “starting point,” which was a happenin’ little restaurant south of the Strip, we plopped into my car and began what was supposed to be an Energizer bunny type of bar hop. Too bad no one packed the batteries.

With Samantha knocked out cold in the backseat — and not from excessive alcohol — Miranda and I did our best not to nod off on the drive to Vegas Baby Yeah Boulevard and ended up taking a quick left instead. Shortly after midnight, we arrived at my house on We Aint 22 Anymore Street and turned in our partying credentials with our heads hung low. But not for good.

Turns out 32-year-olds are exceptionally talented at getting hammered during the day. Sunny weather, bottomless strawberry daiquiris, virgin swimming pool water and too many “HEY, REMEMBER WHEN” statements to count can do that to you.

We laughed the kind of laughter that had all three of us doubled over and in tears. The kind of laughter that starts really loud and then gets really quiet because you’ve all simultaneously run out of breath. The kind that tests your bladder strength and works your ab muscles.

I don’t think they realize how badly I needed that weekend. Or maybe they did when I asked twice in five minutes when they’d be coming back for an encore. And when I pulled out my calendar to make the answer easier. And when I presented them with notarized contracts just to, ya know, firm things up.

Seriously, I can’t begin to describe how much I cherish my friendships with these two. I met them in the second grade, so there are only seven years of my entire life in which they weren’t present and for some of them I couldn’t walk, talk or even go a day without shitting myself so what does that tell you?

Thank you, Miranda and Samantha, for all the new inside jokes we managed to create over the wonderful weekend. The nicknames skit we improv’d will go down in history, yo. Wink, wink.

Categories: characters, this happened, tribute