Agent FareEvader is a Mexican blogger who sits quietly between Tony T. and Amyescence on my blogroll. In a heavy state of inebriation at Grogblogging II in May, I had the pleasure of kindasorta meeting him -- I was well on my way to getting thoroughly munted, and had easily developed some latent-but-furious ire passed on from an insinuated brother-like bond by the always egotistical, uber-pretentious, mega-childish, and unsubtly-sexist Dr Cam Sexenheimer.

A little younger than myself, Agent FE has a great command of English, with fluid posts that you can easily get through from go to whoa -- thought-provoking, witty, and funny -- a rare find in a sea of emo twats everywhere, my visits are few and far between, which is a shame. While he's a great blogger, I still find myself holding back from commenting.

For the folks on my blogroll, I do actually try to visit and comment as much as I can, and I thought the whole 'hatred-by-association' thing in me was long gone, something I'd left behind in Grade 8. Up until this morning, I couldn't figure out why I was so hesitant.


Thanks to Fulmination Dave

Have a good long look at that lad on the left. That's Agent FE with Darp on his right, taken at GBII. It dawned on me this morning that Agent FE is a dead-ringer for my cousin, Hendrik. Except Agent FE's a fair bit shorter and Hendrik's a year older than me.

Now I'm not one to sugar-coat anything, especially when it comes to my family. I hate Hendrik. We very rarely spoke, but every time I visited the Philippines with the rellos, everyone would come up and say something along the vein of, 'Well! Congratulations, Hendrik hasn't killed you! You're still alive!'

Apparently, Hendrik once tried to drop scissors on my head from the top of the stairs. He also used to peg thongs at me when nobody was looking. That fucking cunt.

Another reason I hate him (as well as his sisters), is that he's half Dutch. I'd never even heard of that part of the world when I started getting paid out for losing the pokie machine of genetics. They all had perfect olive skin, hazel/green eyes, long jet black hair, and they were all tall. What in the Christ is that all about??

There were four of them, and I'm pretty sure the two youngest were born here in Australia. While I struggled to speak English without sounding like a mail-order-bride/drinky girl, and avoided the sun like the plague because any longer than ten minutes would make me look like a knob of charcoal, my cousins would be enjoying their reign over the boys and girls who fell over themselves vying for their attention.

The last time I saw Hendrik, I was in Grade 10, and he asked me to come and sit with him. We had a little chat, and it was bizarre to see he'd actually grown up a bit. About a year before that, though, he made the same request and tripped me on the bus so I nearly took myself out on a railing, so my hatred for him far outweighs that piss-weak millisecond of human kindess.

It's not that I dislike Agent FE. It's just that I have a hard time shaking the super-creepy Freudian vibe. I'll make a bigger effort next time since he's a tops writer.

Sorry, Adam. It's not you, it's Hendrik.

LighterFluid