Occasionally something magical happens. Something that defies everything you think you know about the world and the people around you. It changes how you look at individuals. It shines light on things that had until now been only a glimmer in the background. This happened to my sister and I recently, and it all came around because of a boat.
Not my boat. This boat:
This is my sister’s new OC1. This is an acronym, and I have no idea what it means, and for the purposes of this story I didn’t bother to look it up because it really doesn’t matter. Also, there's a picture. All you really need to know is that it fits one person, goes pretty fast, and you paddle it (you don’t row it, and if you do call it rowing and my sister hears you, I can’t promise we will ever find your body).
My sister is a very, very good paddler. If this sport were in the Olympics, she would be going, and has represented Canada at the Worlds in the past. She has more than one of these boats, despite only being able to use one at a time, and like every good boat owner, she names them.
She has Nancy, a pretty little blue and white number who has what can only be described as the temperament of an angry wet cat. My sister says her and Nancy “are still building a relationship”.
Then there is The Poo. This one is a smaller boat with nothing but love to give. A gentle little turd that floats through the water like it's namesake.
And now she has Phinesse (pictured above). My sister tells me she needed a new boat to practice in for the next Worlds open solo division, and for reasons I don't actually understand, that couldn't be The Poo or Nancy. So now Phinesse has joined the team.
She’s called Phinesse because according to my sister, the boat has it's own ideas about where it wants to go, and it takes a lot of finesse to get it to do what you want. But it's spelled with a PH instead of an F because apparently spelling words incorrectly sounds "more cool". She also claimed she was "making fun of millennials" along the lines of Phat vs Fat. She is a millennial, so I also have to assume that if I were ever to have a niece of nephew from her, they would be named Jaxcksyn or Gynnipher, or more likely, it would be a new puppy named Turkoyse.
Cool.
But this isn't actually the main thrust of this story. It's already gold, but we're taking this shit platinum.
Enter: my mom.
What will follow from here on out is a transcript of the text conversation that went on between my sister and my mom when she told my mom about her new boat. This exchange has made me reconsider everything I know about where I got all my writing creativity from, and I am absolutely here for it. Enjoy.
Sister: Finesse. With a Ph. Because changing normal words with a Ph makes them more cool.
Mom: I thought you were going deep into the Greek or Hebrew mythology with names like Phineas or Phanon or pharaoh.
I'm making fun of names.
Or should I say I'm making phun of names.
IT BEGINS!
Sister: I mean.....yes. I suppose you're getting it....??
Mom: Haha, you're phunny
Sister: Ok, you're done
Mom: Nope, I'm just phinding my phuture in phunniness
GOD HELP ME. I'M DYING.
Mom: Don't worry. It's just a phad
Sister: I've created a phucking monster
Mom: Now you've made me phart, but it did feel phantastic.
Sister: I can't believe you're still going
Mom: You phound my phunny bone
Sister: Truly, I'm sorry
Mom: I'm phorever greatful
I have never enjoyed a family text exchange more in my entire life. My only hope is that my own writing can one day achieve this level of comedic timing and simplistic perfection.
Well done mom. You win.
Phabulous!
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