My siblings and are pretty close despite our age differences and even though one of us lives in Texas, we still keep in good contact. As is most of my conversations these days, we text each other a lot. I actually really like texting because it is less intrusive in people’s lives. You don’t have to stop what you are doing to take a text message and if you are busy (or sleeping like I do during the day) it does not interrupt you. Our text messages to each other can be quite funny but when you put us in a group text? Good lord. The best things happen.
This particular text message started out because Seester was reading The Fabulist by Dawn Chiletz and in the first chapter she mentions a character with the same name as Bubby. And in not a nice way but a hysterical one. So Seester sends Bubby and I a pic of the pages of her kindle where Bubby’s name is used and I immediately start laughing. Seriously it is that funny. Especially since the main character of the book begins to describe the dick pic she received from Bubby’s namesake and then she makes fun of his name. I immediately start laughing but the text message that follows those pictures? Classic. Pretty sure not every sibling group can have a text message about ball sacks and testicles, but we did. Only my siblings.
Bubby (after reading the pages Seester sent us): What the hell? Wait…that might be something I would do (referring to sending a dick pic)
Me: I don’t want dick pics from my brother. Like ever.
Seester: Me neither. But reading that shit right away was pretty f***ing hilarious.
Bubby: I’m gonna send pics of my balls to everyone!
Seester: Oh dear Lord.
Me: Only our brother would say that #fuckingweirdo. This is the best group text ever.
Bubby (proceeds to insert a pic of a fake ballsack here. I think it was one made of chocolate): Don’t worry. I only send real dick pics to BIL.
Seester: So does that mean BIL sent you one he took the other night?
Me: OMG. I am dying.
Bubby: He does have a weird thing about getting the proper angle and always wants my opinion on how it looks. Usually it is just of the twig and not the berries.
Me: Omg. I am crying. Who names a kid your name anyways? (I now proceed to say a little rhyme with Bubby’s name in it that he hates).
Bubby: I hate you. Dude seriously. It rhymes with dance and pants. Thanks Mom.
Me: I can’t even
Bubby (then proceeds to send the following pic with this caption): ‘Murica
At this point, I am laughing out loud in my house all by myself because I can just hear him saying “‘Murica” knowing how much we all hate that phrase. This patriotic pic also came with a warning from our Bubby not to do a Google image search for the word ballsack. I decided to take his word on that one as I did nt need to be traumatized. But then of course, I did anyways. I should have heeded his warning. Don’t do it. I know you want to badly right now, but I am urging you not to…unless you too want to be traumatized with those weird pictures. I might have shared one of those scary pics with my siblings in which I said it was the thing nightmares are made of. Seester then proceeds to tell us about how a guy in college whipped out his grossly enlarged testicle for her to see and all I could wonder was whether or not other siblings had these type of text messages or if it was just us. Also, my stomach hurt from laughing. Oh but it didn’t stop there.
Seester: He just whipped it out right there to show us his enlarged restive. Just randomly showed it to us. *testicle…apparently my phone does not like that word.
Bubby: Hahaha. Enlarged restive. What the hell is that anyways? Testicle. My phone seems to have no such compunction, odd…
Me: Testicle, testicle, testicle. Mine either.
Seester: Restive, restive, restive. My autocorrect is a picky bitch. Also, why is ballsack backpack the number one Google search for ball? (obviously she did not heed Bubby’s warning either)
Bubby: WTF is that? I don’t wanna know. I told you not to Google that shit.
Seester: Scrote N Tote. I know what Bubby is getting for Christmas.
Me: This is so happening.
Bubby: I will kill you. I hate you both. Go away.
I might add here he sent us a cartoon pic of a ballsack with smiley faces on them with the caption “Sweet dreams”. I can’t even begin to tell you how bad my stomach hurt from laughing or how many tears were running down my face at this point. Leave it to my Bubby to end a text conversation with a happy cartoon drawing of a ballsack.
Go ahead. I know you want to Google image search ballsack. But don’t say we didn’t warn you. Oh and the Scrote N Tote? Totally a real thing.
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did have one of the funniest text conversations ever with my siblings that was entirely about dick pics and ballsacks but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl who still might buy that Scrote N Tote for Bubby for Christmas Running. The experiment continues…