Baby in a Bar

I had Baby Badger in a bar today. Yep, around 3ish. We were in a Tiki Bar on the beach (my home away from home... the beach, not the Tiki Bar... though some might argue it is the other way). I am sipping on my cheap-ass Chardonnay. Clearly no wine connoisseurs in Mexico Beach, Florida, otherwise a lovely town. But I recommend bringing your own booze if Boones Farm doesn't float your boat.

I ordered my 22-month old a virgin piña colada, which he wants no part of. I am kind of proud of him for refusing the fagotty drink, but it ain't like you can order a virgin Glenlivet on the rocks, so we make do. But it is strange of him to refuse anything with sugar in it... I start wondering if something is wrong.

I know this sounds like bad parenting on the outset (but it gets better). If you are upset about the bar thing then you are kidding yourself if you don't believe that your own child is only a few years away from being belly up to some bar (at a college campus using your credit card if you are lucky) ordering non-virgins of everything on tap. They have to grow up sometime. Like my husband told my son the other day, "Stop acting like a baby!"

OK, so here is where it gets worse. Baby Badger suddenly projectile vomits all over the tiki bar and all over my golden locks and my swim suit and his swim suit and the floor and the bar. It was enough to start a domino vomitorium in that bar. And apparently daddy fed him a bushel of strawberries for lunch because red was everywhere.

People jump to our rescue, except the really drunk lady by the pool who is having "words" with her lounge chair and kicking stuff. Unfortunately, even drunk lady couldn't divert the spotlight from our unfortunate spectacle. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there but people kept trying to clean chunks of puke out of my hair and clean the vomit off my back.

Finally, I got all the do-gooders off of me by explaining that I was 5 feet from the ocean, which would do a fine job of cleaning the vomit off of baby badger and me. And more important than my appearance was the fact that my child was ill and needed to get home. That point seemed to escape them. I guess they aren't used to caring for babies in their bar.

At the moment I feel really queasy but I can't tell if it is the domino effect or if I am infected. I left baby badger with dad so I could get some fresh air. I am on glass of wine #2 and polished off some spicy buffalo wing dip while watching the sunset on the beach so I think I might live.

Big Cats... Big Drama... Part 1

I watched this movie the other night with baby badger. It was Disney and rated G so cool, I'm being a good mom, right? Looking forward to getting that trophy at the end of the year.

The movie is called "African Cats" but I would have prefer a more descriptive title that  alludes to the violence and drama that will unfold over the next two hours. Maybe something like, "These Bitch Ass Cats are Going to be Killin' a Bunch of Shit so Cover Your Child's Eyes"... kind of long for a title but come on Disney! You rate something G then the audience is expecting lame, boring, lots of musical numbers... not freaking turf wars between two lion prides.

So this documentary is set against the backdrop of one of the most dangerous places on earth, the Savannah. Their are a few main characters (none of whom were Honey Badgers so that disappointed me right off the bat).

First on the scene is this old-ass lioness named Layla. She is a super experienced hunter and sort of the head of the pride, so the young bitches in the pride don't talk back to her. While she really runs things the lionesses let the only adult male in the pride, Fang, think he is boss... kind of like how we play our men.

Fang fathered all of the cubs in the  entire pride so he is pretty keen on keeping his position as the only adult male. He's named Fang because he has this nasty broken tooth that hangs out of his mouth the whole movie. Some war injury or something. Fang, man, let me tell you... broken tooth don't make you look warrior... it makes you look trailer park. Just yank that sucker out. It's nasty.

Now the story of the lion pride has a two-fold plot --- Layla is in her last days but she is trying to hang in there until she can secure a position in the pride for her last cub, Mara (must have been one of those happy accidents).

However the real drama is centers around this pride north of the river that is almost all young males. Those youngins' look south and see this one sorry, broken-toothed old cat with all these young chicks and they are like, "What's up with that, Yo?" And these lions from the north have their hoodies on and their pants hanging down past their underwear and they are all like, "Let's go take over that corner, Yo! That toothless old G ain't gonna stop us." But before they can even make a play for Fang's turf they have to cross a river full of crocodiles. "Oh Snap!" is right. So the boys from the north corner begin to solider up. They need female companionship and that is motivation enough to put down some crocks and one raggedy old school gangster.

Part 2 tomorrow...

Raising a Baby Badger

A friend dropped by my house the other day and found me and baby badger in the backyard. She took this picture:

Yes, that is a canoe... the famed Diablo Verde, in fact. And yes, we are in the pool. I was getting baby badger acclimated to the vessel before taking him out on open water in it. We have since taken the Diablo out on the lake by our house. He made me proud. He loved leaning over the boat and splashing his hands in the water and he wasn't even the least bit phased by the giant grass carp that tried to get in the boat with us. He definitely takes after his mother, which probably means lots of trips to the emergency room in our future. 

Two Paws Up!

Warrior, have you seen it? No? Get off your tail and go rent it, download or OnDemand it right this minute. It is by far the best mixed martial arts movie ever made!

Mixed martial arts as a movie genre is rather new so a statement like "Warrior is the best mixed martial arts movie ever" is like stating that Obama is the best black president that America has ever elected... that ain't saying much. Speaking of presidents: Restore the Republic and vote for Ron Paul in 2012! (That reminds me, I need hit Academy and pick up more ammo and a generator. But put aside the impending loss of of our civil and state's rights under any administration that doesn't include Ron Paul as president and loose yourself in this Warrior flick.

The movie is about these two Honey Badger brothers that beat the snot out of each other during one scene and then they are all brotherly lovin' each other in the next scene. Juxtaposing graphic violence and tender emotion rarely works but somehow this movie pulled it off. Even more amazing, the movie producers managed to bail Nick Nolte out of jail long enough to play the role of Daddy Badger. He gives a pretty compelling performance as a former alcoholic... but is that really acting? I give it two paws up!

I'm Back! Miss Me?

PFirst, let me apologize to my readers for the lapse between this post and the last (I hope both of you found some other way to kill ten minutes each week). I hate to make excuses for myself but I have been busier than a one armed paper hanger.

OK, truth is I don't really give a shit about leaving you hanging. I've just been sitting around since January not giving a shit while my loyal readers (both of you) have been hitting the "refresh" button on your browsers waiting for a story about the FHB's latest caper or just a sign of life to reasure you that your days of LMAO and ROTFLMAO (or whatever the hell you learned from your kids this week) aren't over for good. Put the gun back in the drawer because I am back! "Watch Out!" said that bird is right.

I wish I was returning with a great story about falling off an ocean dock while trying to pet jellyfish, getting arrested twice in 24-hours, shooting a 200-lb feral hog (nasty hogs). Unfortunately, I don't got shit. I was on good behavior, hoping to keep my alter ego a secret while pursuing less honey badgerish endeavors. It is kind of like I am Clark Kent (but not as big boned) and I had to put my blue tights away for a while to make my deadlines for that asshole editor at the Daily Planet... except there is no asshole editor 'cause FHB don't work for no man... and I am not faggoty like Clark Kent.

Fret not, bass season is almost upon us and fishing tends to bring out the honey badger in me. I hauled the Diablo Verde (a canoe) from my dad's place in the country to the big city. I live about five minutes from an urban lake (my personal Zion). The fishing has been slow. I need to head deep but motors are prohibited. Not that FHB gives a shit about city ordinances and such --- I will take a motorboat wherever I want (mmm... that came out wrong). Anyway, I just prefer a stealthier approach to the 18-foot outboard with 250 horses pulling her. Men, hear me on this --- size does matter but not when it comes to bass boats. Sell the boat and pay for your kid's college. All you are doing is scaring the fish.

Back to my story... the reason I was telling this story in the first place (squirrel!)... my brother secured the vessel to a canoe rack atop my Tahoe. I use the word "secured" loosely (like my brother's knots). I could have done it all myself but my brother likes to think he is in charge, so most of the time I just placate him. I watched my brother tie these knots for an hour while my dad, the alleged Eagle Scout, stands by as an advisor. It was like watching monkeys fucking a football. The result was not good. Two nylon straps "secured" the canoe to the front of the truck. The left strap had a winch to tighten it but there was no winch to be found for the right strap. My brother compensated for the disparity by tying a mess of random knots. I got about 20 minutes down the road and the canoe was already getting squirrelly. FHB, determined to get the Diablo home and her ass on the water, came up with a makeshift winch using a hair comb. The Diablo Verde made it home much to my husband's dismay. I don't know what he has against having fun?

Truer Words Have Never Been Spoken

I just overheard a conversation between an undergraduate student and her grandfather:

Grandfather: "You are becoming a drunk."

Granddaughter-Living-Large-on-Someone's-Dime-at-a-Nearby-Private-University: "I am not a drunk! I just like to drink a lot."

How do you argue with logic like that? I bet she is pre-law.

I Resemble This Remark...

“I never fall apart, because I never fall together.” 
― Andy Warhol