Dear Katie and Parker

Dear Katie and Parker,

Running the gamut from goofy to getting real, our friendship means so much to me.

Parker, Donna Reed has nothing on you. Katie, nuclear energy has nothing on you.

You both put the Pop! in my Snap! Crackle! and for all that you do, and all that you are thank you.

Katie, thank you for being Ransom's personal chauffeur and assorted snack provider, your endless amount of wine and bottomless wine glasses, your use of the word "pop" even in the most unusual of circumstances, your mod Betty Boop do, braving the Zoo, bar top dance-offs, kicking my ass running, showing me your Turks and Caicos tan line, wearing gravity-defying shoes, proving its cool to wear workout clothes all day, still speaking to me after I dinged your wood floor doing the flying splits, burning the song Soul Sister into my head, being so kind to my girls even when Ruth Love the Skinny raids you cupboard, and most of all making me laugh and listening to me when I need to bitch.

Parker, thank you for fielding Nurse Ruckno phone calls, home-cooked meals so my kids can see what a real mom looks like, your skill for imitating people, your rockstar-stripper do, allowing me to terrify Drew on the way to the Zoo, seated bar and counter choreographed routines, double-stroller walk-a-thins, showing me the supernatural power of a good bra, wearing your fur-trimmed MILF/pimp daddy coat, proving its cool to roast a chicken hungover, still speaking to me after spilling wine all over your shirt, making me burn with jealousy after you hung out with Chelsea Handler, allowing Ransom to play the dominatrix with Drew, and most of all making me laugh and listening to me when I need to bitch, too.

XO, B