Yesterday marked the 21st anniversary of my brother's evacuation from my mom's womb. As such, it was my duty as younger sister to drive designated-like across town and back so he could consume his alcohol with his friends after consuming it with family.
It was a good night.
Suffice to say, one of the highlights of the evening was dinner with the family at Buffalo Wild Wings. As the only one under 21, I settled on a coke. Drinks varied around the table from a pinot gregio, blue moon, bud weiser, and a jack and coke (my brother couldn't just have blue moon). Hilarity ensued when my brother, distracted with eating his ribs like a dog who hasn't eaten in a month, appeared unfazed by my dad's hand in his tray. He was stealing fries.
Stories passed around the table. How my brother and I NEVER got along as kids, mispronounced words and common mistakes we've all made, my mom scaring people, the Rapture, etc.
This somehow led to split topics -- The Winter War was the conversation for the men at the table; for the ladies it was how one day I'm going to write a book detailing every experience of my life and how I have to wait until my mom dies to publish it for risk of embarassing her.
But I thought to myself, why wait? Why not start now with the simplest of written forms -- my blog? So from now on I will be outlining my past as if I were writing my book; someday I'll copy and paste a book together from it, if I survive the third predicted rapture that is.
*Survived Y2K, bird flue, swine flue, west nile, Rapture 1, Rapture 2*
No comments:
Post a Comment