I call her Farts Magee because I'm convinced this has to be her college nickname. Her roommates were Bird, Seabass, Bozo...and yet, she's never given up her nickname. Know why?? Cause it's Farts Magee.
She's a fun, yet decidedly wet blanket. When I convinced her to go camping, while pregnant, I knew that she really, really, really really liked me.
When you try to get her to break out of her shell/wet blanketness, she squeals "you knew what I was when you picked me up!"
I feel strangely invested in her family. I want to know who Brooke is dating, what her mom is serving at Easter, and whether her brother has had his baby or not.
I suspect the NSA flags and reads our texts for entertainment, and cry with laughter every single day.
We started using hashtags as an obnoxious joke, and now we can't stop. #anotherwaytobefunny #wearehilarious #icantstopusinghashtags.
Her worst nightmare is several going away parties that linger on for weeks and/or involve costumes, dancing, and prolonged small talk.
Not her idea of a party, but she plays along for friends.
Speaking of--she has...interesting dance moves. Plus, she likes to watch herself in full length mirrors when she dances. You would think this would be a deterrent for her, um. moves--but it's not! She soldiers on!
She can always be counted on to bring a tasty dish. She's known for her 7 layer dip, but still toots her horn about these loaded tater skins she hawked at a Halloween party 2 years ago. I won't lie. Those were tasty tots.
Before I even met her, I read her blog and thought I HAD to get to know the girl who was almost as funny as me.
She does not drive for fun. Anything beyond 10 minutes is branded as being too far away, and she balks. The one exception is Gilroy Gardens, and I suspect it's because it celebrates family friendly fun in a cool setting. 99 cent DC doesn't hurt either.
She keeps wishing multiples on me for some cruel reason.
I thought the corn mush from Nob Hill was my little secret (weapon) until we discovered--in mutual horror--that the other one knew about it, too. Everyone BEGS for the "recipe."
She gets her hair done more than anyone I know. Roots be damned! That woman is in the chair every 6 weeks on the dot. Plus, she always gussies up before seeing Tyler.
The woman can diet like nobodies biz. Her secret? Starvation via sheer will. I'm jealous. So is Lance.
She squirreled away some free offbrand DC that I gave her for the zombie apocalypse.
I just learned tonight that she chucked it. I hope the ZA happens after her arrival in Utah.
She defends Tomatina like it's manna from the Gods. The food is crap, but it boasts a fireplace, and is cozy.
Apparently, this is all it takes to get Ashley going. Take notes, Tyler!
She hauled her cookies to the church every morning for two years at a heinous hour to teach seminary to annoying teenagers. She has a heavenly hall pass for life as far as I'm concerned. I once subbed and complained heartily, even though I drank DC and played some game instead of doing real work or teaching. What can I say? She's a better woman than I am.
Her porch displays could all be in a Pottery Barn catalog. I shall let the fair readers decide if that's a compliment or not. Cough...it's not....cough....cough....
We once did dinner and a movie, and Team Carter--led by Tyler--bolted out early to find the best seats in the theater. I'm not saying we TOTALLY weirded out, but it's worth noting we never did this combo with them again.
She really liked Mitt Romney, and hoped that he would win.
Despite the fact that we cheer for different political teams, every single discussion with her is civilized, and we find that we have a lot more in common than meets the eye.
I am letting her keep these vintage metal signs as a 'thank you' for being such an amazing friend, and always watching B when I needed last minute help. Display them well, my friend!
She has an affinity for butterfly wear, not unlike Mariah Carrey.
I don't know what kind of music she likes since she never knows anything on my top ten music lists. If pressed, I would probably have to admit that she probably has awful taste in music.
She LOVES the YMCA, and faithfully attended a BodyPump class. I think it's safe to say we never rubbed elbows in the gym.
When I first had B, she insisted I skip the playdates, and roam the malls in peace. I never understood this stance, and to this day have never indulged in this pastime. Sounds boring, quiet, and lonely.
The girl loves her In n Out.
She also loves petty, untraceable cash to spend on life's little pleasures.
I gave her all the best pieces in her wardrobe--except that Mariah Carrey shirt.
She coined the term PDR--a phrase I still use to this day.
She brought her boys over every Halloween to check out my spooky village. Being bred of Tyler, they pay attention to minute details, and appreciated my fine handiwork. I rewarded them with a mini village of their own.
She never placed in my annual cookie party. I suspect that like Kristina Buskirk before her, she will start a new version in Alpine.
Who are we kidding? She would never host that many people on purpose.
She is the funniest introvert that you will ever meet.
She totally gets that the NKOTB obsession is both real and a joke. How is this NOT clear, people??
I secretly hope that Beezie marries a redheaded Carter boy. There are like 17 to choose from, so I'm sure she can find one to float her boat.
My money is currently on Benny
However, I fear the crazy opinions Tyler will have when planning said wedding. #reconsidering
She is the most non-committal person you will ever meet. She's always looking for a possible escape route. I have no idea how Tyler locked that bird in a cage.
I once (innocently) made a joke about her bad bangs after she had. Apparently, there is a statue of limitations on such items, and she lobbied a campaign of anger and indignation for months. I hadn't even noticed her bangs, good or bad, and was simply referencing her own blog post. #badidea #notfunny #shewaspissed
She has a 2 hour hard stop rule for parties and showers she's not invested in. When you point this out, she will always yell something about how she brought a gift AND a delicious tray of food, so she's under no obligation to stay. Then she bolts--no excuse of pleasantry offered or needed.
She isn't squeamish about sexy sex in movie or shows, but hates violence and betrayal.
She's reading this thinking "I'm SO hilarious! This is good material, people. I give GOOD MATERIAL!"
I often call her with math riddles: "I need to feed the ward at Christmas. Each person eats .3 oz of ham. How many 16 lb hams will I need to feed 200 people? GO!!" She loves it when she feels needed.
It's who she IS
She wanted me to have a baby SO badly, and may have prayed for it more than me. And that's a lot of prayin, people!
She dotes on Beezie, though she remains disappointed in my stance on headbands and pink and purple princess crap.
I've enriched her life with my amazing restaurant suggestions.
You're welcome!
I once made her cry in my kitchen, and I still feel bad about it. Sorry, girl!
Her car really is a garbage can on wheels. I once picked their family up at the airport, and was greeted with fast food bags and no gas.
This was the first party she ever came to of mine. A few months later, she invited me out for her birthday dinner. Ever since then, I've been the greatest friend with the best hair that she could have ever asked for.
I once kidnapped her Hooty bird, and sent her HILARIOUS ransom photos. She refused to play along, and simply came and stole the one off my porch. #wetblanket
Every time I visited her house, I rearranged her displays to annoy her--Hooty on his head, crates tipped over, foliage switched out.
I totally tricked a missionary into yelling "OH YEAH" at her like the Kool Aid man. She was outraged, and he felt like a fool once he saw the damage he had done. Haha, sucker.
I also almost bought her these on Etsy after said Kool Aid incident, but thought better of it.
She is incensed that I continue to display my scarecrows when she declared them creepy. She even left a scarecrow in the likeness of my HS math teacher Mr. Bader on my porch for months.
She taught me that the best remedy for a crying kid is to toss em in their crib. It changed my life. I had no idea you could do that.
She's inherited many of Eriika's precious entertaining pieces which she always promised to display in a "cute and classy manner."
She knows in her heart of hearts that blow mold will magically appear on her new doorstep during the holidays this year.
She knows that it's hard to pull off a costume when pudgy.
She finds it positively mind boggling that I seek out new friendships and collect people wherever I go.
Now to get sappy on everyone--Ashley has been my sister since Eriika passed away in every way possible. It's hard to describe, but my relationship with her feels just like the one I had with Eriika. She is family to me, and I really needed her in my life for these last few years. She egged me on when I was struggling with infertility, cried when I got pregnant, cheered me up when Eriika died, and has continued to brighten my days with her humor and selflessness over the years.
Ashley--you will be quoted often, occasionally mocked (the drive! THE DRIVE!), missed terribly, and never replicated. I love you dearly, and miss you already. Thanks for giving us some of your best years. XO.
