Serious birthdays


It is only Tuesday guys. IT IS ONLY TUESDAY!!!

April 23rd is Brother Serious’ birthday. He doesn’t read my blog much. He is a stony-faced boy and not at all interested in what his older sister has to say. Even if it is awesome and funny. Even when I cry from feeling unloved.

Brother Serious owns a big ol’ truck. Like a true Eastern Oregon man. He works for Pepsi, therefore Coke is the devil. He would cut our tongues out if we drank a Coke product. That is a real threat there, no joke. I feel guilty looking at the Coke displays in the grocery stores. As a Pepsi driver he drives an even bigger truck than his pickup. He is shmancy and has a CDL. I have yet to see him in this giant truck but when I do you better believe I am going to get him to honk that horn. Even if it takes following him around on his entire route.

Brother Serious is three years younger than I am. I was obsessed with him when he was born. I liked to poke and prod, and talk to him with our noses touching. Then he got bigger and, come to find out, had a low tolerance for such things. He does not like to be touched, not even a hand on the shoulder. His instinctive reaction is to hit the intruder. Elbow to the eye, fist to the gut, kind of deal. I guess that might be my fault.

We don’t look anything alike. I was adopted, I am sure of it. He has dark features, I do not. He has hairy legs, I do not. He has tattoos, I do not… yet. We’ll see what the future holds. He tans, I burn. He likes country, I like indie. He thinks I’m weird, I think I am hilarious.

On this, his birthday, we are feeding him dinner, cause the kid never eats. He goes days without food. I’m not sure how he doesn’t look malnourished.

Hoping this year brings him many miles of country fun and maybe a new tattoo.

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