It’s so cliche to keep posting about my brother.
But . . . .
I had to share this.
My brother’s a little TOO close to me.
Which is normally not a bad thing.
I cherish the fact that we are so close.
I think it’s what brothers and sisters should be.
And NO, don’t EVEN think it.
Yes, it’s the South, but the thought of my brother touching me in ANY manner at all makes me . . . . oh god, I have to go vomit. Back in a bit.
Anyway, it’s normally NOT a bad thing that we’re so close.
But sometimes, I want to revoke his license to share.
And I play along, to a certain point, but then I turn all sisterly.
Casanova, Jr: Hey, you sound like shit, whatcha doin?
Me: I just woke up. What’s up?
Casanova, Jr: Lazy bitch.
Me: Whatever! I didn’t get in bed til 5.
Casanova, Jr: Hell, neither did I, but I’m up cooking lunch.
Me: Well, I’ll bring you a cookie, my little over achiever. What the hell do you want?
Casanova, Jr: Listen to this shit, Meg, the bitches were crawling all over me last night. I ain’t never had that many titties rubbing up against me. They were all about some Todd last night. I was looking all suave and GQ. I had on those Abercrombie khakis we just bought and that blue shirt with the stiff collar that you always make me wear and a white T under it and was sporting my hat. Had my cologne on. Them biatches loved it. They were all over it.
Me: Yeah, all except that hair.
Casanova, Jr: Get up off the hair! I’m tellin ya, the hos is all about the hair. One bitch at the piano bar last night stole my hat. She took it off to admire my hair, then she stole it. She stole my hat and walked around with it and I was screwed. Cause you know my hat’s where I get my power from. You know, I don’t think I got that shit back. Damn. Will you take me and buy me a new hat?
Me: Jayzus. Forget the hat, Sampson, tell me more about the “bitches.”
Note: My brother is normally VERY clean cut. Hair no longer than an inch. But some stupid girl convinced him to try and grow some of it out. It is by NO MEANS long, but ohmygodinheaven it is at that stage where you look at a guy and think “Uh, Grizzly Adams, it’s no longer hunting season so you have no excuse not to visit a barber. Trim that shit.”
And he does derive his “power” from his hat.
To win at poker, to bet at the horse track, to get “fine bitches” to hit on him.
He needs that hat.
It’s a Southern male thing. They all have THAT hat.
Bone, back me up . . .
Casanova, Jr: Oh yeah! So anyway there was this 26-yr old chick from Arkadelphia and she was HOT, I mean like bang and bang. And she was all about some Todd.
Me: Todd, love, when did you change your major from Nursing to Ebonics 101?
Casanova, Jr: I’m hung over, bitch, just listen to the story.
Me: Yes, sir.
Casanova, Jr: What was I talking about?
Me, sighing: You were telling me how you were about to contract a venereal disease.
Casanova, Jr: Whatever. Anyway, this 26 yr old chick. Man she was digging it. So we leave the Piano Bar and go down to the other piano bar, whatsitsname - oh yeah, Ernie Biggs - and I tell her we’re going down there and she’s all ‘that bar sucks we’re staying here’ and then ten minutes after we get down there she walks in the door with her girls. Yeah, she was wantin it.
Me: How lovely for you. Todd, you’re a skank.
Random shift in conversation, it’s a G***** family trait. We do this with some skill. Occassionally there’s a transition sentence, but more often NOT. As evidenced here:
Casanova, Jr: Did I see you on Rodney Parham with Baker and some chick?
Me: Yeah, we went to Happy Hour and got drunk as shit. The chick was Birdie.
And . . we're done:
Casanova, Jr: Back to this Arkadelphia chick.
Me: What was her name, slick?
Casanova, Jr: Hell, I don’t know.
Me: God, Todd, you’re not even getting their names now??
Casanova, Jr: Her name was . . . nah, hell, I can’t even make one up. She was hot. That’s all I needed to know.
Me: You give me such hope in the male species.
Casanova, Jr: Yeah, I know. What would you do without me?
Me: Probably be rich, happy and the apple in my daddy’s eye.
Casanova, Jr: That wasn’t meant to be a question. Besides, like mom says, “Your DADDY will do it for you.” You got that man wrapped.
Me: Yeah, I got skills.
Casanova, Jr: Can I finish my story now?
Me: If you must.
Casanova, Jr: Anyway, so I’m drunk as shit and they’re leaving, they were some bachelorette party or something and the bride chick wanted to dance so they were going to Disco and told me that I needed to get the boys and come with.
Me: But you can’t dance.
Casanova, Jr: Harsh. But . . .Yeah, I know, right. But I was gonna go anyway because I ain’t gotta dance. I just stand there and let the bitches admire.
Me: Oh, God, are we even FROM the same mother?
Casanova, Jr: Just listen. So I get out to my truck and I’m all sweatin and shit and man, I’m drunk and there’s no way I can go to Disco so I tell Cody just to drive home.
Me: Thank God! Cody went? He doesn’t drink, right, so you were like being escorted safely home.
Casanova, Jr: Yeah. But I don’t know about safely. Man, I thought we were gonna have to stop on the side of I-430 and let me puke.
Me, completely sarcastically: Well, I sure am sorry you didn’t get laid. I mean, an opportunity like that and you just waste it? Todd, babe, when are you ever gonna be all GQ’d up like that again and have six hos dyin to do ya.
Casanova, Jr: Oh, I got laid!
Me: Huh? By whom?
Casanova, Jr: There were some bitches at the frat house where we went to drop of Gabe. And they were lovin up on me, too.
Me: I repeat, by whom?
Casanova, Jr: Man, I don’t know her name.
Me: WHAT?????? You just slept with some random??? Todd!!!! Damnit!! I thought you were smarter than this! You’re not some white trash skank! Don’t go stickin your bits in every pretty package that walks by! You’re gonna catch the Hiv and DIE. And then what, leave me alone to deal with mom and dad. I’ll kill myself and haunt you first!
Casanova, Jr: Man, I suited up, I’m not stupid.
Me: Holy buddha. Why do you call me and tell me these things? Are you trying to send me to an early grave?
Casanova, Jr: You’re gonna act like you didn’t do this stuff when you were my age??? Meg, I saw you do some of it! Hell, I lived with you.
Me: Babe, regardless of what you THINK went on, I never slept with a random. Hell, the number of men I DID sleep with EVER can be demonstrated with only one hand.
Casanova, Jr: But you were a make-out whore. Hell, you made out with Kade.
Note: Kade was a VERY good friend who turned into a roommate - third bedroom, NOT mine - but when you’re drunk or craving some lip action, you go to what’s near and dear. He was cutie to the max and a hell of a kisser. Yes, I did make out with my renter. Whatever, like you guys haven’t done it.
Me: Uh YEAH, who’s denying that? But touchy-touchy kissy-kissy don’t give you herpes-herpes.
Casanova, Jr: Lay off. I’m not catchin anything.
Me: Let’s hope so.
Casanova, Jr: Hey, can we do poker over here next week?
Me: Huh, why?
Casanova, Jr: Because we’re gettin tired of cleanin up the mess and Jon pointed out you got a maid so we could totally do it here and she’d clean it up and nobody else would have to.
Me: No, Todd, you can not use my maid to clean up your parties.
Casanova, Jr: Dude, you’re paying her! Come on.
Me: Nope, ain’t happenin. I can’t have all those guys over here. I’ve entered a man free zone.
Casanova, Jr: What’s that mean?
Me: It means I’m staying away from guys like you that only talk about hunting, bitches and football.
Casanova, Jr: Guess that means we’d have to have an all chicks poker game. Yeah, I could handle that. Strip poker. Can we have strip poker at your house?
Me: I’m gonna kill you. I would have done it already, but you provide a high level of entertainment and I was at a loss on how to fill the void. But now I have Tivo so you’re dispensable.
Casanova, Jr: You love me.
Me: Only because law demands you love your siblings. And God rewards charity.
Casanova, Jr: You love me.
The rest of the conversation was mindless brother-sister stuff.
He’s coming over here later to tell me about the OTHER bitches that were hittin on him.
Ummm, does anyone else have this brother that brags to his SISTER about his conquests??
What about you boys? Do you tell your sister about the action you receive?
Yes, I still love him more than anything else in the world.
But I will totally brain him with a decorative metal urn when he walks in the door.
Sleeping with girls whose names he doesn’t even know.
Where does he get this stuff?
You would think we were brought up by heathens.
Oh wait . . . he’s just like my dad.
We were brought up by heathens.
Thank God mom tamed him.