Friday, July 8, 2011

So it's this girl's birthday

Her name's Mallory. You may have heard of her. You know, I mention her in about EVERY ONE OF MY BLOG POSTS.

But in case this is the first time you're reading The GetUp Kid, I'd like to say Welcome and here's my best friend Mallory:

It's her natural face for anything.

But anyway, it's her birthday. She's FINALLY 17. My little girl is growing up you guys. Soon she's going to be out in the real world. Doing them hard drugs like CRACK. But it's her life. I'll let her live it the way she wants. 

Since Mallory is now 17 it means that we are now the same age. Which is great because I was getting tired of being the oldest in the group. But this sweet bliss will only last for two months, because then I'LL BE 18 BABY! Sorry, this isn't about me. It's about Mallory.

If you read this blog, which I hope you do because you're currently on a blogging website, then you know that me and Mallory have had our ups and downs. We go through this thing called phases where neither of us wants to talk to the other and we just simply, not hate each other, but despise each other. The only word I can thing of these periods is: hell

But we always manage through. 

Contrary to popular belief, Mallory and I did not meet at an old general store in the middle of winter because we needed to buy food to feed our families. We actually met Freshman year of our own personal hell: high school. We had the same homeroom. The Binkster. I made Mallory sit in front of me and talk to me because I hated everyone in the room. And well, yeah. That was the first time we talked. Sophomore year we had Career Management together. A class in which it's as dumb as it sounds. We spent our time getting on Omegle and being cool kids. I still don't remember what that class was about.

Then it happened. The most amazing things of all things. We. Hung. Out. I don't know how. I don't know when. Though I know it was in January because that's when I got my license. But we did it. We hung out. You'd think because we love Taco Bell so much that the first we ever hung out would be at a Taco Bell. Nope. We went to Sonic. It kind of sucked, but it was still great. I had a picture from that day that I wanted to show you guys, but I've seemed to have misplaced it.

Anywho, since then we've been friends. And eventually we became best friends. Thanks to, you know, that little thing called the Fluff War. 

We've been through some hard times and we've through some really great times. There's so much that I could say about this ginger, but I've decided that there's just too many inside jokes to put into one blog post. So I guess I'll just leave you guys with this:

Dear Buster,
I hate you. Nawww jus' kiddin', jus' kiddin'. But forrealz, that time in Vietnam was great. Tragic, but great because that's where I met my best friend. We've watched our pals die off one by one and we've been waiting for our time. It just seems like Baby Jesus doesn't want us to die though. Since we've been home we've gotten married to two of the loveliest ladies around and we've managed to create a few little squirts to run around the yard as we both sit back and watch the burgers cook on the grill. I'm glad you've managed to live this long because that means that I'm not the only old fart left on Earth. I know that if I ever need someone to talk or rant about the war with that I can just come to you, my best friend. Here's to 50 long years on this earth and may we live 50 more.
Your friend,

Also, Mallory and I have been to Uwharrieq.

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