Sunday, July 30, 2006

Warning: They Grow Up

Ah, the joys of little brothers. So cute, so impressionable. You take time to mold their little minds and fill them with propaganda like, "Even when you grow to be a foot taller than me and can bench press my weight, I will still be able to kick your do as I say!" My younger brother was spawned 4 years after I was born, revoking my coveted position of youngest. I bore this treachery well, and was gracious enough to not place him in a little wicker basked and send him floating down a river. We used to get along so well, bonding as I pushed him around in his little wheeled contraptions resisting the urge to pull him out and abandon him on the floor so I could ride them myself. I had him trained to laugh at all my jokes and scoff at everyone else's. My own little minion. His first word was "Bridget" for pete's sake! Those were the good old days.
WARNING! They grow up!
Little Johnny has veered from the path of Bridget worshiper and onto the "my name is John not Johnny" track. Excuse me? Did you have permission for that?
One minute we are held together by the bond of siblingness and the small reference to his recent manwhoreness on his Facebook wall and BAM! I've been shown the door. Removed from his Facebook friends list. Jigga what? Excommunicated like a leper who likes to hug people. How did he go from that cute little subordinate to this:
Yes this 16 going on 17 year old wanna be gangsta had the nerve to dismiss me from his list of acquaintances. I simply called him out on his pathetic attempt to hide the fact he is pursuing two different women at once and I'm the bad guy? Was I wrong to type "MANWHORE!" in sprawling letters across his facebook wall? Some might say, "Well Bridget, he's your brother you should stick by him instead of exposing him for the male skank that he is." Well jokers I live by another rule...HOES BEFORE BROS! This is a simple ideology created by myself and my good friend Karen to protect ourselves from our spoiled little brothers. Yes we are adults now, but these rules are still important to protect women the world over.
And so to all those being pursued by the manwhore formally known as Johnny...beware. I got your back bitches!


Apparently making pancakes while camping does not work out well if one is not equipped with Pam spray, measuring cups, or even something in which to mix together the water and powder. Needless to say s'mores for breakfast was our only option. Heck ya girls can rough it.
And yes, that spatula is wrapped in tin foil. It's not like we brought any dish soap with us, and we weren't about to make pancakes with the left over boca burger grease all over it.

Dump or get off the pot

My life's goal is finally achieved...and by life goal I mean slight inclination of the past few months. I have finally gotten around to starting up a blog. I was terrified for some time of this astronomical step. Oh the responsibility. I can hardly commit myself to making my bed every morning (who am I kidding...I never make my bed), how am I ever supposed to commit to a blog. Then it dawned on me that I'm not looking at a big audience here. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only idiot flying to her computer to log on and read my ramblings on a regular basis will be myself and whatever friends I hold at gun point screaming, "READ WHAT I WROTE AND LAUGH! I'M FUNNY AREN'T I?" And so to all my unfortunate friends let me take this opportunity to say, "Don't worry, the gun isn't loaded. You may go back to what you were doing, I won't harm you." And to anyone else who stumbles upon this madness...welcome.