Friday, September 14, 2012

TGIF, except for the part where you know a friend is cruisin' for a bruisin'

Three years ago, I was shopping at Target, picking up necessities, and as always happens in Target, I got sucked into an impulse purchase. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't hang your head in shame...it happens to all of us. I had just selected some conditioner, when I walked past the party supply aisle and this little guy called screamed my name:
I ask you: How do you leave the store without this? Impossible.

Yeah, that's right: went in for conditioner, came home with a piñata. What, that's not your life? Meet Pedro, darlingest Godzilla piñata on two stumpy legs. I looked into those fierce red eyes and I was done. He came home with me and I have to tell you, we've been so happy together. He spent two years in my living room, surveying his domain, keeping the peace and whatnot, and now for the last year he has been stationed on a bookcase in my bedroom watching me sleep. No worries...Pedro is a GENTLEMAN.

And now, Pedro's day has finally arrived. Tonight, we are having a Japan-themed party to celebrate the end of a fantastic era of shenanigans, as my beloved roommate and I prepare to part ways, and the beginning of a new era as I plan to invade Tokyo. And frankly, Pedro is going to steal the show. At this very moment he is perched on a pedestal, ready to Kamikaze pilot his way into immortality. See:

Keroppi pin for courage. Fierceness just cuz.
All week I have been preparing myself for this. It has come time for Pedro to fulfill his ultimate destiny. IT IS WHAT HE WAS MADE FOR. And I'm not even being poetic. Like he was actually made to be filled with stuff and beaten to pieces. These are the brutal truths of piñata life. *tear*

And we are going to do him PROUD, don't you doubt that for a second.

Oddly enough (or not odd at all), I realized this isn't the first time I've found myself preparing to mourn a piñata. Given what a crafty middle schooler I was, I made a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle piñata (Michelangelo, of course. DUH.), and after 13 good years of hanging around the house, his day of glory came:



We will never forget.
At least I've been here before, and I know it will be difficult, but ultimately good. Why is life like that so often? Me and Pedro are going to philosophize on this for a bit. Talk amongst yourselves.

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