Monday, April 27, 2009

I Love My Big Bro

Simple relationships are such a joy.
My big brother Billy is 10 years older than me, but he's stayed slim and active so he seems much younger. He's retired but he fills his time as a freelance hydrologist, whatever that is.
Here's our telephone conversation today.

KZ: Hello?
B: I'm bored.
KZ: How come?
B: I had a job but I couldn't find it so I came home.
KZ: Why don't you watch TV?
B: No way, because I'll be sitting here doing it all day.
KZ: Why don't you go outside and water your plants?
B: It's raining.
B: What are you doing?
KZ: Nuthin'. I just woke up. I got drunk last night at dinner with Middle Sis and Big T.
B: You got drunk? What did you have?
KZ: A giant Bombay Sapphire martini and my share of two bottles of wine.
B: Did you act crazy?
KZ: Not really, I did a little table hopping at the restaurant and spilled hot fudge all down my shirt. And they wouldn't let me drive home.
B: Table hopping?
KZ: Yeah, there was this couple at the next table and I sat down and asked if they were married or on a date. They were real nice. Married, with two kids. The youngest one has some kind of mental illness.
B: They told you all that?
KZ: Uh huh.
B: How'd you spill all that fudge on your shirt?
KZ: Not sure. I didn't notice it until I got to their house.
B: You stayed there overnight?
KZ: No, I had a little nap, then I woke up and looked for their kitty Booboo to sleep with me, and when I couldn't find her I drove home.
B: I wonder where she was?
KZ: I think she was hiding from me because she doesn't like wine fumes.
B: Did you just wake up?
KZ: Yeah. I haven't had coffee yet. I had to buy a new coffeemaker and it was a cheap one and it has no automatic turn-off switch, so the first time I used it, it stayed all all day and night and I ended up with coffee jerky in the bottom of the pot.
B: It should turn off on its own if the element gets too hot.
KZ: I guess it didn't get that hot.
B: Did you save the jerky so you can reconstitute it later?
KZ: God no! How gross would that be? Besides, I have at least five different kinds of coffee people gave me or I bought on sale.
B: Why do you have so much?
KZ: I dunno, it just started piling up.
B: Did I tell you that the wife bought a new car?
KZ: She bought a new car last year--now she has a new new car?
B: It's new to her, but it's a 1984 VW Rabbit.
KZ: What? How many miles does it have on it?
B: Oh, a hundred and seventy-six thousand. And it's really cool, it's diesel and stick shift and gets 57 miles per gallon.
KZ: Jeeze, and it's not beat up?
B: Nope, it's in great shape.
KZ: What color is it?
B: Babyshit yellow.
KZ: Eeeuwww.
B: She's gonna get it repainted, though.
KZ: What color?
B: Babyshit yellow.
B: Okay, I gotta go now.
KZ: Okay, see you next weekend at my birthday party.
B: You're milking this birthday for all it's worth, aren't you?
KZ: I am.
B: Okay, see ya.
KZ: Bye bye.

9 comments:

dguzman said...

Awwww....

nonnie9999 said...

coffee jerky! the one thing they haven't done to coffee yet. this could be your pet rock, karen. you can make millions!

Dusty said...

Simply precious!

I don't talk to my younger brother..the fucker is a rightwing theocratic bag of batshit..to put it mildly. ;p

bigsis said...

bigbro just called me too and said he got a note to go pick a certified letter at the post office. I asked him if he's going to get it and he said no one in their right mind ever picks up certified mail. And bigbro's bff, Chucky, agreed, so that piece of mail is dead.
Ah, the simple life.

Dusty said...

He is right of course..no one picks up a certified letter. ;)

Karen Zipdrive said...

I got the same letter and signed for it. It's those assholes from N'awlins taking us to court for the minor fender bender we had last Mother's Day.
Eight idiots in one pickup, a slight sideswipe and they are all claiming neck and back injuries. Those lying sacks of shit.
He called me too and I told him to man up and get the letter so he could forward it to his insurance company.
People--avoid driving anywhere in Louisiana--faking injuries in trumped up car wrecks is a cottage industry there.

Lulu, the Dewey Dame said...

If they won't bring it right to your door, I say fuck 'em. That's what all that extra money should be for.

When does a certified letter ever mean good news?

It doesn't.

Karen Zipdrive said...

Bro lives so far out in the sticks he has to commute a few blocks to his mailbox.

Lisa said...

This was a hoot to read. Your parents didn't raise any dull kids. That's for sure.