Cheap, yet classy with plenty of free kisses

Oh the things that happen when you spend time with someone who has known you for the better part of 20 years. My dear friend Jacky came to visit me this weekend. She kicks off a string of three visitors staying for a total of 13 days in what Sam likes to call “I have no ability to have work-life balance when you cool people who I love keep coming to town. And, oh yeah, I’m sick again.”

Just to add a little flavor to the proceedings and so you can truly see what life with a Jacky-Sammi reunion is all about, I finagled the out takes of our video for her website. I couldn’t promise her my first born child because Liv’s already got that one.  Wouldn’t you all like to know what I promised her instead.

If you’re not completely scared off by the two crazy girls who can’t stop laughing or you’d like to see more of the adorable yellow flower in my hair, you can head on over to Jacky’s sweet site and see the whole sha-bang. And read about her amazing life. She’s going places. I’m just hoping she doesn’t go all Britney on me and pretend she doesn’t remember weak ankles in the HY-VEE parking lot. BECAUSE I’ll NEVER FORGET Jacky. NEVER.

So Jacky came and I kicked off the trip by being an awesome host who drove to the wrong airport to pick her up. I find it kind of ironic that the person who actually cares that someone be in the airport waiting at the exit (thanks Mom, for always being awesome on that front) couldn’t manage to drive to the correct airport. Since she’s been traveling for a while and probably because she’s slightly less crazy than I am, Jacky rebounded pretty quickly from being completely neglected at the airport. What she wasn’t over, she quickly got over once I introduced her to the joy that is Coco’s nutellla raspberry crepes. Lets be honest, you could probably dump me and kick my dog all in the same five minutes and as long as you handed me a nutella crepe it would starve off the crying at least for a little while. Jacky feels the same.

Here’s what I’ve discovered about my city since I’ve had an out of town visitor: we really like food. There was heavy debate over what kind/type/authenticity level of Mexican food to take Jacky to, as well as two crepe visits, two failed attempts at one of my favorite restaurants and some amazing salmon (which apparently freaked Jacky out because… oh my goodness… I eat fish now. What has the world come to?). Oh, did we mention we saw Selma Blair at Sweet Lola’s Yogurt Shop? Did we? Go check out Jacky’s site. She might bring it up. Just once.

Jacky has discovered that the cost of living in Houston is probably why so many people don’t leave when it’s, lets say, October and ninety freaking degrees with humidity. Everywhere we went it was “This is so cheap.” “Oh my goodness, so much less here.” “Wow, I can’t believe it’s so cheap.” Yeah. We get it. But lets be clear: cheap, yet classy. CLASSY JACKY.

And Foster is all about the free kisses. Tried to teach her to be a lady, but that plan went right out the window.

You would think that this cheap-classy combo would make Jacky want to move to my city. Unfortunately, she has fallen prey to the joy of California and would like to move to San Fransisco. Making it that much harder for me to not move there myself. I mean, the Mexican food won’t be as good and I’ll be broke for the rest of my life, but think of the movies we could make. It would be epic.

We’ll see what Liv and Laura have to say about these California plans of mine, as they are both campaigning for different states at the current moment. So many choices. So many choices.

There are so many other things that have occurred this weekend that only Jacky and I would find funny. Like things you learn at church: setting rules for people means they will shoot flaming arrows in the woods. Or, if you make too many sudden movements Foster will attack you with her tongue. Or the best way to get me to feed you is to put a comment in your gchat status.

See? Not as funny as I think they are. But that’s okay, she’s my friend. Not yours. I’ve got the bad first grade haircut pictures to prove it.