Warning: Expect foul language. I often blog when sleep deprived, and even when I'm not sleep deprived I cuss.
Warning the second: TMI often occurs. Read at your own risk. Feel free to laugh at my expense (I know I do!).
Warning the third: I suppose I should just put a general Trigger Warning here. I talk about mental illness (Anxiety, panic disorder, depression, social shit), abuse (rarely), and my fucked up relationship with food. And...other things. Actually, just consider this a general warning: If you might be triggered by things, you probably should read no further.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012


I love my brother. I love my brother. I love my brother. No, really, I love my brother. Pay no attention to my hands around his neck, I LOVE my fucking jackass of a brother.
I really do love him, and when we get along we get along really well. When we don't get along...Well, it's usually his fault. You can ask my mom if you don't believe me. Just tonight we watched Freedom Writers which was all feel good and I cried (yeah, I'm that girl, and yes, I cry during poignant scenes in action movies too thankyouverymuch). Through a series of conversational threads that I shall not recount because...I don't really feel like it. ANYWAYS. Through a series of conversational threads that I shall not recount, I mentioned to my mother that the roast beef was moldy and since I didn't know what she wanted done with it I put it back in the fridge. I'd meant to tell her when she got home, but forgot until that moment. Now...we keep the lunch meats in tupperware containers so that we can have smaller portions out at a time and freeze the rest. This is not a new phenomenon, we've been doing it for a long time. My brother starts going OFF on me about how I shouldn't have put it in the fridge because now everything in the fridge is going to mold. He starts lecturing me and criticizing me about putting a sealed container back in the fridge. Have I mentioned that my brother has been through all kinds of counseling and seen all sorts of child psychologist specialists? And that he refuses to take medication because there's nothing wrong with him? It's everyone else you see!
So he's being a critical asshole. I ignore him and start talking to my mother about an acquaintance who always wants my brother to come over to do chores for her. I find the woman incredibly annoying, but it's his business so whatever. This time one of things she needs is for him to dig a hole. SERIOUSLY?! She's more able bodied than I am, and I can damn well dig a hole. I admit it, I started mocking her. My brother says she just doesn't do well with practicalities. I say "No, she's just DUMB". He made some diplomatic statement and I laughed and said this was why I would never be a diplomat. My mom laughed with me, at which point my brother starts lecturing me about being less critical. I think my job dropped. My mom's face was a sight to see as well. I just said "Yeah, well, it begins at home buddy".
I freely admit, the snark is strong in this one. I am a very critical person, but I try to turn that into a positive by directing it towards myself most of the time to facilitate self-improvement. The rest of the time I snark to the friends who find it hilarious. No one gets hurt and I don't wallow in my critical nature. The thing is...Hypocrisy bugs me. My brother is one of the biggest hypocrites on the planet, and he's blind to his every fault. I love my brother much better at a distance when I can't catch him lecturing my mother in a completely disrespectful and condescending manner. I do fun things with my brother. We love each other. But if we weren't family I would have nothing to do with the little self-righteous, ignorant, condescending douchebag. But this is the same little douchebag who gave up his room with very little complaint when his big sister's life imploded. So. Family. What are you gonna do? In my case, move far, far away and smile as I think about how nice it will be to miss him.

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