Welcome, to all of those insane enough to walk this blog!

As you might have noticed, this here blog is one big archive of the ramblings of an insane author. So insane, in fact, that I wouldn't be surprised if you went mad just reading said blog...Good luck ;)


I lied. This is not, in fact, a "directory" as the title above might suggest...This is merely a warning of what you might find on this blog. I believe I have already warned you of the insane ramblings archived in this blog, but I must say, if you are not prepared for the tomfooleries that can be found here, you might just want to close this tab, shut your computer down, and walk away slowly in order to keep your OWN sanity in check. Fair warning >;)

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

My brother is HOW old?

Twenty. My big brother is twenty years old as of today. It was bad enough when he turned eighteen, but now he's only a year away from the legal drinking age. It's weird, because now he's really old. He's like, ancient. Well, okay, maybe he's not that old, but it is strange. He's no-longer a teenager, which will be strange to get used to. Anyway, I don't want to dwell on the fact that his youthful days are over (ha ha!), so I'll just change the subject.

What is the appropriate age to stop the thing where you hit the birthday boy or girl the same amount of times as their age? You know, like today I get to hit my brother twenty times, and on my birthday he hit me eighteen times. But when does that stop? Does it stop after you turn twenty? Or sooner? Later? When, huh, when?!? Okay, so maybe it just doesn't ever stop. Maybe people just keep doing it until they have kids, and then they just do it to their kids instead of each other. Or maybe it stops when you turn eighteen, in which case, I have tortured my brother for two years unnecessarily (not that I'm complaining). So anyway, I took a break from this blog just a few minutes ago to go to Starbucks with my mom and dad, and when we got back, we decided to embarrass the crap out of my brother. He was in his room, talking to some of his friends online using a mic that he got as a present. My mom and I went in his room, and tried to talk into the mic, but he muted it so his friends couldn't hear him. So my mom and I acted like we left, closing a door loudly to make him think we were gone. When he started talking again, we counted to three, and both ran into his room yelling, "happy birthday!" really loudly and obnoxiously. Upon leaving the room again (laughing), we shouted, "we love you puddin'!" (that's the really embarrassing nick-name my mom gave him when he was little). He was definitely embarrassed. Was that cruel of us? To embarrass him in front of his friends, when he's twenty now? Anyway, I have four more punches to give him (I like to spread the birthday-hits out, so they last longer), so I should go. I need all the strength I can get, wahahahaha!

Happy Birthday, bro, and contrary to popular belief, I do love you (gag!).

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.
P.S. Don't worry, compared to the birthday-punches that my brother gave me on my birthday, the ones I give him a quite mundane. You bruised my arm, you little booger! Don't deny it!

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