New York Conquers All

There goes the Rhyster Bunny

My friends (my sister, Natalie, and my part-time lover to whom this blog is partially dedicated to) have brought to my attention my obscure use of nicknames for Rhys.

So, here’s an explanatory glossary of nicknames for Bobesy:

Rhys: Despite all appearances, this is in fact, his real name! When I first tried finding him on the popular social networks of the time, I immediately assumed Reese. He was nowhere to be found! “He must not have a computer,” I assumed. Oh, how terribly wrong I was! A Google search for Rhys’ name now identifies 2,270 site matches! He’s addicted! I was overwhelmed and slightly distraught to read his au courant blogs of the time: beatjeremycoon.com and ideaprovince.com. Especially this article on the dangers of white potatoes. Here’s an excerpt which chased me away into the jungles of the Dominican Republic (really!):

“Hold up, hold up. Did she say what I thought she said? Mashed… potatoes? Mashed WHITE potatoes? Mashed DEADLY NIGHTSHADE potatoes? Did I mention DEADLY - meaning “OF DEATH”… potatoes!? This is what you want to cure you? You’ll set your health back 100 years to caveman times! I must be daydreaming! Cause if I’m not…. WHAT. THE. FUCK?!?!?!?”

Can you believe it? Rhys using the EF word? Besides his ‘roid rage, I’ve never heard the likes of that word come out of Rhys’ mouth! Not even when he accidentally consumes a grain does he resort to such profanity.

Anyway, his deep-seated hatred of potatoes wasn’t enough to drive me away. (Read the post. It’s become one of my favorites.)

I discovered Rhys’s spelling of his name the same day we finally spoke (after months of deadly sexual tension over the Angelica kitchen takeout counter.) He received his Christmas bonus that fateful day and a co-worker pointed out to me how strangely he spelled his name. Rhys proudly held up his envelope with the anomalous spelling of his name. “Aw, shit! I’ve been Googling your name all wrong all this time. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit,” I almost blurted. But as Rhys handed me an old receipt with the correct spelling of his name accompanied by the addresses of his two blogs, I kept my cool. I waited until I rounded the corner, clear of the big paned Angelica windows to jump up and down uncontrollably. “Nice and nicely done,” I asserted to my sister who was patiently waiting in the car while I made my smooth moves. When I got home, I immediately cyber-spaced into Rhys’ blog, only to find an entry about an inner debate deciding whether or not he should move back to Austin for his girlfriend at the time. Uhhhh, enigmatic for sure. Well, I’m sure y’all know how that worked out. On to the next name.

Rhysy: OBVIOUS! Everyone calls him that. Especially my mom.

Bobes(y): Rhys-Rhys-Bo-Bhys-Banana-fanna….So, it originally started out as Bobesity from “Bobhys.” It seemed appropriate to fondly call my slender, gaunt boyfriend by a name that rhymed with obesity. That term of endearment became too burdensome to roll off the tongue. Decided to stick close to the amount of syllables in his original name. So, Bobes is short for Bobesity. And if I’m feeling especially cutesy, I’ll go for Bobesy.

Rhyster Bunny: This one just came to me. Rhys’s nicknames for me helped inspire my WBAR DJ name: DJ Slaw. That’s a derivation of Nicoleslaw. His other favorite is Nicolemine.

Hope you all had a good Rhyster Sunday. Bobesy and I certainly enjoyed ours (although nursing me back to health probably isn’t one of the finer pleasures in Rhys’ life). Here’s a picture of Rhys mistakingly putting ash on his forehead for Easter Sunday:

He’ll get it right next year…in New York.