Not all Binkies are created equal.
Once upon a time, I was working on a job in Cincinnati and a rather large fellow by the name of Nathaniel interviewed to work for me. I was suitably impressed by him (and I loathed the only other guy I interviewed) so I hired him. I decreed -- as is my wont to do -- that there could only be one Nathan in the department, so Nathaniel would henceforth be known to one and all as...Binky. He was introduced to practically everyone else on the movie as Binky; I'm not sure many people knew his real name.
You may think this was a cruel nickname to hang on some poor young guy who was otherwise as un-Binky-like as one can imagine -- and it was. It got even worse when Nathaniel moved to NY -- and was once again introduced to people...as Binky. I believe he was stuck with the name for 5 or 6 years.
So, did Binky die? No! Heaven forfend! He's alive and well and working far enough from my circle of hell to have outgrown that hated nickname. I saw him only a couple of months ago and he's positively flourishing.
So what the fuck is this post about? It's about my binky! I believe it was around 1994, that Anonymous GF bought a sweatshirt. It was a really comfortable sweatshirt. It was without stupid logos or printing that one might outgrow or come to despise. It was soft and warm. It was everything one could hope for in a sweatshirt.
I decided it was mine.
I wore it constantly. I wore it so much that GF compared it to Linus' security blanket. She decreed that it should henceforth be referred to as my Binky! After about 5 years of constant wear, it started to develop some imperfections. I didn't care. It was my Binky!
GF is not in the habit of dictating to me what I may and may not wear, but she decreed that the Binky was no longer to be worn in public. I heard and obeyed (mostly). A couple of weeks ago, I pulled on my trusty, loyal Binky to do some stuff in the backyard, and even I had to acknowledge that the thing had grown a bit ratty. Need some documentation?
Yup! Poor Binky needed to be put out of its misery. I decided I'd bring it on our trip to Minnesota and say goodbye to it with proper ceremony. You don't just toss such a beloved item in the trash after so many years of faithful service. Things of this nature must be cremated and properly mourned.
So, the other night, after grilled pizza (which I accidentally burned, but that's another story), Vince, his Ex, Anon GF and I all gathered to honor my old, old friend.
Yes, tears were shed -- mine were honest mourning; theirs were from laughing at me -- the bastards! I am now without a Binky. I'm am bereft of Bink. I am Binkless.
I'm on the lookout for a replacement.