ransom notes and pirate booty

maybe it's paranoia. I have every right to paranoia, what with not one but two credit card numbers being stolen recently and the constant reminders of said theft arriving on my doorstep weekly. Which is to say that the thieves decided to order me random holistic medical supplement bullshit and have it sent to my house, me feeling all Austin Powers "it's not mine, baby, I promise!" Herbal acne medication, $500 worth of enemas....you know.

anyways, paranoid or not, when I got an international call on my phone today I was all, hells bells I ain't answering that shit. +52 country code probably in somalia some pirate gonna steal my car and hold it ransom. But there was a voicemail! I googled the country code, turns out it's in mehico. oh mother of god, I thought, B-dub's there RIGHT NOW. It's the kidnappers! How much do they want? I'm only on a grad student salary...

So I listen. To my relief, B-dub was not about to have his pinkies cut off and dropped into bottles of mezcal to sell to tourists. Instead, he was chillin' with a glass o' gin on the coast. Score.

Happy vacay, B. You've come a long way baby!