My dear friend, Risa, is celebrating 27 years of living today, but really I'm the one celebrating. Celebrating because Risa is one of those people that you can call and spill your guts out to and you know nothing has changed. I could run over her cat, set her collection of My Little Ponies on fire and cut up her Anne Taylor Loft card and she would love me the same.
Risa is super smart, extremely funny and dresses very maturely. She's not the most amazing dancer I've ever met, but she can do a Pedro (from Napoleon Dynamite) impression better than anyone on Earth!
She's definitely someone you want on your team-- especially if you're losing, because she just has a great attitude. About everything. I know she'll disagree with that statement, but I don't care.
Risa, I hope your burrday is marvelous. I hope it's spent watching really crappy crime scene investigative shows or maybe with a round of non-alcoholic margaritas with your cray-z aunties from the West.
Risa, thanks: for being my friend. For g-chatting with me. For answering the phone at 3 a.m. when I'm making poor decisions. For taking me on two tours of D.C. For teaching me Daniel at camp, even though you didn't teach much. For never putting me in kayak at camp. For almost always giving me two off-periods at camp. For being a reference on my resume. For making me laugh. For encouraging me. For telling me to shut-up when I need to shut-up. For getting in line in '09. For being a good example. For recognizing good hair when you see it.
And most importantly, for being a unique and caring individual in a world that is becoming less and less unique and caring. You haven't saved me hundreds of dollars on therapy, but you have saved me thousands and I'm grateful for you.