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That kid.
2005-11-26 ~ 12:02 p.m.

Last night, around 3am, I was awoken by loud, rhythmic banging noises. "Ah, Greg must be home," I thought.

And no, sadly for him, he was not having sex. I say for him because I was quite relieved by this. I love my brother and all but I'm just as happy to NOT be exposed to that side of his life, thankyouverymuch.

See, Greg has been going out drinking on a fairly regular basis. And strange things seem to happen once he gets home. A remember the Sunday morning I found ketchup all over the kitchen. (Okay, I exaggerate a bit. But really, there were ketchup smears in strange places)

Last week was the first time I remember hearing the banging. At first, I thought he was locked out of the house (this was the night his car broke down so it was conceivable that he might have lost his house keys in the shuffle) but I came downstairs and he was lying on the sofa and claimed to not know what the banging was. But the next morning, I found my basket of bananas (which had been sitting on the breakfast bar, under which the sofa lay) in the kitchen sink. Apparently, whatever the banging was had knocked the basket off balance.

So when the banging started again last night, I didn't even bother. Figured he'd tire himself out eventually.

This morning, I come downstairs and he asks, "Did you hear any noises last night?" Um...YEAH.

Apparently, when he woke up this morning, his TV was on the floor, his clothes from last night were ALSO on the floor, and there was a big puddle of something next to his clothes.

I told him about the banging and that I had just assumed he was banging his head against the wall. Then he noticed that his knuckles were all red and sore so we figured he'd been punching the wall. But if that were the case, the wall would be dented. Greg's a big boy and I could tell he wasn't pulling his punches.

So we determined he was slamming his foot against the floor to sober up. And he must have been lying on the floor under the TV because he does recall the TV falling towards him and he caught it before it landed on him. And somehow, something must have spilled on his which explains the puddle and the clothes on the floor.

Finally he said, "I need to stop drinking."

Yeah.



Now, those of you who know me know that I VERY rarely use "LOL". Like, practically never. But last night, I had not just an LOL moment, an actal ROTFL moment. See, I'm reading The Eyre Affair (by Jasper Fforde). Which I've been meaning to read for a while but I've just now gotten around it it. This is one bizarre book but I'm really enjoying it. I won't sum up the whole thing, let me just take this first sentence from the inside flap description: "Great Britain circa 1985: Time travel is routine, closing is a reality (dodos are the resurrected pet of choice), and literature is taken very very seriously"

So, there is a scene where Richard III is reimagined as a Rocky Horror style production and this is where the giggles started.


Richard opened his mouth to speak and the whole audience erupted in unison:

"WHEN is the winter of our discontent?"

"Now," replied Richard with a cruel smile, "is the winter of our discontent..."

A cheer went up to the chandeliers high in the ceiling. The play had begun. Landen and I cheered with them. Richard III was one of those plays that could repeal the law of diminishing returns; it could be enjoyed over and over again.

"...made glorious summer by this son of York," continued Richard, limping to the side of the stage. On the word "summer" six hundred people placed sunglasses on and looked up at an imaginary sun.

"...and all the clouds that lower'd upon our house in the deep bosom of the ocean, buried..."

"WHEN were our brows bound?" yelled the audience.

"Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths," continued Richard.

And on and on in this vein. I did not want this scene to end. But end it did, as a pink pantomime horse appeared on stage just as Richard offered to swap his kingdom for just such a beast. That's when the ROTFL started and I swear, I didn't stop LMAO for a good five minutes.

A pink pantomime horse? C'mon, that's some funny shit, yo.



Ode to a yo

Oh yo!
Why do they mock you so!
No one knows.
How I love my yo.

I say "yo"
And Ann says "yo?"
And Chandler says "yo?"
They say my yo must go.

NOOOOOOOO!!!!

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