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Happy birthday, Brother Weasel

my brother

Yesterday was my big brother’s…ummmm…56th birthday. June the 15th. Or, as he used to run around the house singing it, “June the Sisteense.” My brother didn’t discover the letter “F” or the phoneme “th” until he was about ten (oh, the tragic day mother sent him to buy fish food!).

That’s his horse, Polly. I insisted she was our horse, but by the time I was old enough to ride her alone, it would have been kinder not to. When running, she blew rhythmic wind out both ends simultaneously in a maneuver I called the “wheezefarts” while she worked up a big ol’ mouthful of lather to fling back in my face, like a big wet equine meringue clown-pie.

But I digress.

My brother and I aren’t estranged; we were never close. He’s a very nice guy, really. But he’s just such a…huge…banana. He’s my only surviving full sibling, which makes him closer to me genetically than anybody in the whole wide world.

Shit. That makes me feel warm; like a generous slice of equine meringue pie.

sock it to me

June 16, 2008 — 5:20 pm
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