I am here. With my rogue pinkie and all.
And I have not had pulled pork until this moment. Or brisket for that matter. And I have not seen a cowboy like this before. It’s a revelation really.
Me like Texas.
But I have other issues I need to talk about. Namely pesky brothers.
They look pretty innocent at first.
But then they begin to give you the evil eye.
You see the twinkle. The demon just can’t contain itself.
And the eyes begin to flutter.
And you think, well maybe that annoying spurt was short lived and we’re all saved from anymore nonesense.
And then you get distracted because you notice “Hey! Look! The Budweiser bottle is sporting some Texas pride. And what other state has that? Maybe that means I should move to Texas and pretend I’m in the show Friday Night Lights?”
I want to be Tim Riggins when I grow up.
You dig really deep and try to remember.
Then you think about running for the hills.
Or the canyons.
Or whatever they call those things here.
It doesn’t matter, you’re going to run for them. All of them.