Everyone is my  buddy…
Well, almost everyone is.

My nephews are my buddies.
YOUR nephews are my buddies.
Little kids in public spaces are my buddies.
Little kids in public spaces who behave like incorrigible little shits?  Still my buddies.
Big dogs are my buddies.
Little dogs are my buddies.
Old men playing chess at McDonalds at 11am are my buddies.
My own granddaddy was my Buddy, and everyone called him just that.
My own dog responds to “Buddy” as much as he does “Bruiser.”
The last thing I say leaving my house every morning is “bye Buddy, see ya later” and his response is as priceless now at 8 years as it was when he was 8 weeks old.
I randomly high-five 3 year olds in Wal Mart who elatedly grin when they hear a large black man smile and say “high five, lil buddy!”
Parents love it too.

I guess you could say I use the word “buddy” a lot with the people I come into contact with.  And I am okay with that.


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