The Diary of Queen Mothy |
My Brother and his Bud written @ 5:43 PM on January 03, 2003 2nd Entry for the Day Human beings learn from their mistakes, hence no two things in history are alike. Most of the time. This theory, however, remains just a theory, and in no way does it apply to my brother. You'd think the fool would learn that in spite of the incredible mathematical ratios attached to such statistics, lightning has, in fact, struck twice in the same spot. Last night, I was in one of my bonker moods, and I wanted to find my cat Pierre because I'm the Elmira of the family and have to love-him-and-hug-him-and-keep-him-for-my-very-own. You know. Elmira! The basement door was open, so I went down there in search for the kitty because he likes to hide from me under the couches. I got down on my hands and knees and began my hunt for my precious pussy cat, and as I drew upon the couch next to the PS2 system-- the same couch where the Penthouse was found this summer, mind you-- I noticed a Bud Lite beer. My thoughts about my cat quite far from me as I began laughing evilly, I imagined just how my brother would be nailed to the tree this time. "Mooooooooom," I crooned innocently, "I don't know if you know this or not, but were you aware of a can of beer under the couch downstairs?" My mother's already stern face turned even stonier, and she commanded like a queen, "Show me." I traipsed down to the basement with her in tow, reached under the couch, and revealed the half-empty can. She studied it for a moment and said in the same tone of voice she used with the Penthouse Magazine incident, "Okay. I'll take care of this." I grinned when she turned away, feeling just like a little kid before the fireworks began to the fly. When my brother came home from hockey, his face turned as ghastly white as it had this summer. His excuse? "You said I could have it!!" I started rolling on the floor laughing hysterically, and then my brother was exiled to his room. Worse punishment could have happened than did, until this evening at dinner when Mom gave her speech to both him *and* me about all the alcoholics in our family, and how both of us were at risk for alcoholism. I wasn't really paying attention. I only took mental note of the names so I could add "alcoholic during life" to my genealogy notes. Then I explained to my mother that Jonathan is at the age group where experimentation begins, all the while swearing that I never took a drink. And I tried to hint at the fact that Jonathan may very well lead his life very much not unsimilar to "Animal House." But Mother doesn't want to hear such things about her baby birds delving in illegal things. You'd think, being an athlete, that he would be the sober one, and I, being the fucked up artist, would be the one downing the expensive beers and fine wines. It's perplexing to me even as I sit here writing this out, but it can only reinforce that fact that my brother and I are like night and day. The question I wonder now is which is whom.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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