In the Ghetto

I would not have thought to use this song as the Honey Badger's anthem but whoever did is genius. Thanks King and thanks Honey Badger. You have both earned your crowns.

Oh Other Brother!

FHB has two brothers. One three years younger and one three years older. Neither are Honey Badgers. However, the older brother does get into a fair bit of trouble and he did win a hog wrestling contest once. The younger one flies under the radar. He is a real sweet kid so he gets away with everything.

Below is a text messaged conversation between the younger brother (YB) and FHB. It makes me laugh (the only point of this blog) so I decided to transcribe it below. I have added some parenthetical explanations in blue to help the reader follow the conversation):

FHB: I miss our canoe trip so much that I borrowed the husband's sleeping bag and I am sleeping in the backyard tonight. I am crazy... I know, but we need another trip soon. It resets my saccadic rhythms. (o;

YB: Nice! I know what you mean, I was just looking at Big Bend photos wondering if it's worth a weekend trip.

(Big Bend is a National Park that spans most of West Texas and is separated from Mexico by the Rio Grande river).

FHB: It is worth it but we need to travel by river.

YB: Ok, but it's upstream you know?

FHB: Well, hiking is up hill so same diff and by river we can filter water and catch fish. Right?

YB: I see your point. I got halvies on a trolling motor though... You know, so we can break for fishing.

FHB: Cool, I am in. Let's convert Diablo Verde into a cigarette boat. I bet we can even make some extra cash as a border mule with a motor on that bitch.

(Diablo Verde is the name of the green canoe that my brothers and I own.)

YB: No way... FHB aint got shit on Los Zeta!

(Los Zetas is the most dangerous drug cartel in Mexico. They are known for execution style murders, such as beheadings.)

FHB: True dat... I do like my head exactly where it is... firmly attached to my neck... We will play this one straight until we get the lay of the land. No promises for our second voyage, though.

YB: Right, once we've secured safe passage and made a few connects with the locals, we can plan our overthrow of the cartel. Let's keep the horse in front of the cart afterall.

(Connects - short for "connections". Specifically, drug connections in this context.)

FHB: Smart... That is why you are the head of this operation. So, when can we make this happen?

YB: Safe bet would be Christmas eve... Catholics take that shit serious. Family obligations be damned Sis, we need our heads. Worse case, we play the "just take my foot, it's Christmas after all" card.... Something tells me we'll find ourselves on a flight from Brazil with 4 lbs of MadMan up our cornholes before this is done!

(MadMan - a type of PCP. It is very dangerous to insert large quantities up your cornhole.)

FHB: Lol. I don't know if I can talk my way out of Christmas Eve with family and I don't know if I have enough cornhole left to hold 4lbs of MadMan but I can have a meet with da husband and see how he feel about all dis.

And who needs both feet anyway... Prosthetics have come a long way.

(In reference to my cornhole, it would help the reader to know that I have Crohn's Disease and had to have most of my colon removed. And because I know you all want to ask but are too polite to --- No, I do not wear a colostomy bag... that would slow FHB down. The surgeon resected things back together.)

YB: Right, you won't fit an eightball after that meet. Let's sleep on this, perhaps we can find a less international approach.

(I think that YB missed the reference to my colon surgery and thinks that I am referring to the husband taking out my cornhole by inserting a boot up it if I propose missing Christmas to canoe the Rio Grande river with my brothers. I totally understand the missed reference because YB doesn't want to think about his sister's colon. That is just nasty.)

YB: ... How well do you squeal like a pig? Just thinking outside the box here.

(Obvious reference to the movie "Deliverance". If you haven't seen that movie then this blog probably isn't for you. May I suggest Martha Stewart Living instead. I have hear that they publish a very nice blog.)

FHB: I ain't goin' down like that. I'll give a foot 'cus that will save me half on my pedicures but any pig squealin' is going to land on one of you boys. Better learn how to play a banjo bitch. Let's circle back tomorrow for more solid plans.

YB: Ok, let's do that. Have a good night out there... Better put some water wings on case you get ta rollin.

(FHB has a pool in her backyard/campground and YB is concerned about drowning... after all, home accidents are one of the major causes of death).

FHB: Night little man... in the mornin'. PS- I don't have water wings but I do have several inflatable Elizabethan collars that should suffice. (o:

(Let's just call the "inflatable Elizabethan collar" an inside joke. You would have to see it to understand.)

YB: Lol... Save that head, nice! I think we just solved all of our problems.

FHB: You are a funny kid. Good night. Love, Sis

YB: Good night ;)

Oh Brother!

OK, you got me. That is FHB in the picture below (and in the previous post). My older brother took this picture. Yes, he hastily retrieved his camera rather then stop and render aid to his poor, wet sister. You are probably wondering how I ended up in the ocean with all my clothes on. Funny story, actually. 

My brother and I were strolling the harbor walk after dinner when he yells, "OMG, look at that huge jellyfish! Scary." Sissy brother. 

"Dude, put your big girl panties on. It is just a jellyfish. As long as you don't touch the pink parts you are safe. Even if you do get stung it really doesn't hurt. I have been stung dozens of times and it is less painful then an eyebrow wax (remember, FHB doesn't care. She doesn't give a shit, especially about no nasty jellyfish).

So to show off, I decide to demonstrate for my sissy brother how you can pet the little, misunderstood creature. Luckily, there is what appears to be a very stable platform situated a few feet lower than the dock. FHB just thought to herself, "Well, how convenient that the wise city planners put this step here so that people can get closer to the menacing sea creatures."

Unfortunately, FHB miscalculated. The nice, little jellyfish-petting-platform was not at all stable. I hopped onto it and all of a sudden it turned into a splintery slide into the ocean. Not cool. But no harm done. I got myself out of the water because my brother was too busy peeing his pants from laughing so hard. I did have to perform a little minor surgery on my foot the next day to remove some bits of oyster shell... nothing a good pair of tweezers, some iodine and a strong course of antibiotics couldn't take care of.