The Wrath of Achebeyo

***You know how most people claim to be their own worst enemy to get that sympathetic vibe going?***

Her: Stop calling me that.

Me: But it’s funny and cute.

Her: Maybe the first 700 times you said it, but now it’s just annoying.

There’s something to be said for knowing when you’ve worn a phrase or nickname out. I don’t know what that something would be, because I can’t seem to catch the hint until the daggers in her eyes are in mine and I’m spending some quality pout time in another room of the house…for the rest of the night. Maybe I should have called this, “We went to Costa Rica and all she got was this stupid nickname.”

This whole trip will, of necessity (and my penchant for lengthy, exaggerated explanations), be broken down into several categories…which I will make up as I go. This one will be known as ‘strike three…hundred’ for now.

We had some limited down time while we were on our whirlwind three-and-a-half days traveling to, and in, Costa Rica. Listen, you might be able to go 24/7 without sleep or non-subtitled foreign television, but not me. I need to be able to wind down into troubled dreams of secret bunkers filled with living mashed potatoes by making uneducated guesses as to what might be transpiring on foreign shows. Enter subscription television, and the star of this episode.

The way this paid channel sounds in Spanish immediately caught my attention, mainly for the way it flowed off the tongue as a potential trouble-making nickname, or a way to ensure I keep up my record of ticking her off on every trip. From that moment on (about 1.5 days into the trip), she became Achebeyo. To say that she was less than thrilled would be like saying the ocean has some salt in it. Apparently the more you poke the sleeping lion, the more she wants to gut you…emotionally. But it’s just so catchy!

It works in tandem with annoying songs, like the dreaded Macarena: “Heeeeey, Achebeyo!” And to a lesser extent, Paul Simon: “And Betty when you call me you can call me Achebeyo.” Hey, I said “to a lesser extent”. Regardless of what medium you use to apply it (whispering it into her ear when she’s in REM sleep, tossing it in casually when addressing her in front of people or leaving voice mail after voice mail), it sends a message: please hurt me with solid objects.

I’ve since learned my lesson, and only burst into “Heeeeey, Achebeyo!” when she’s not around. But it’s still one of the things I’ll remember fondly from my trip.

Once I get off my lazy torso-pillows and download the images I captured on my magical soul-stealing device, I’ll be sure to further embellish the tale of our trip. Until then, I dare you not to think about “Heeeey, Achebeyo!”

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Explore posts in the same categories: Me, Travel

2 Comments on “The Wrath of Achebeyo”

  1. Narf Says:

    You SO love to court death, dont you? 🙂

  2. Dad Says:

    Is that “Ah-kee-bee-oh”, “Ay-kee-be-oo”, “Atch-ay-bay-oh”‘ or what? Not that I’d ever actually say it out loud (she still has that .40 cal.,right?).


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