It’s a wonderful thing to know you have a couple of Honey Badgers at your call. Anytime. Anywhere. Carrie and Gaylene have been two of my nearest and dearest friends for 16 years. Sixteen. They saw me through a divorce, my late blooming teens in my 20’s, a giant car wreck, a marriage, another divorce, raising The Girl and every bit of nice and WTF’s in between. What’s most amazing is that those two will answers a distress bat signal no matter what they are doing, where they are or how minor it may seem to be in their eyes. The time of day or morning doesn’t matter either.
|Gaylene, Carrie & Cat|
When a man breaks one of our hearts, the other two HB’s threaten him with bodily injury and help each other burn away the memories. We will help bury bodies if we need to. When a man makes us happy, we do the appropriate amount of stalking, spying and recon to make sure he is worthy of our friend. If a non HB girlfriend slides sideways- we’re there to pick up the pieces and confess how we never liked that bitch and she always dressed tacky anyway- then on to a healthy night of tequila shots and dancing. Speaking of tacky, we’re always honest with each other on matters of fashion, shoes and so on. We call bullshit on each other when it’s needed. We tell each other to toughen up when it’s time to buck up. We let each other vent, love and be without judgement. We also keep a treasure trove of evidence, pictures and memories on each other of shit we would never want anyone else to know. Being a Honey Badger is like being in a bad ass sparkly gang- once you’re in you never get out alive. We wouldn’t have it any other way.