Saturday, June 25, 2011

Twisted Sister

My sister had the short end of the stick growing up. She and I get along wonderfully now that we're all grown up, but back then it really wasn't fair for her. She was the youngest of three, had an angry tantrum-like personality, and was accident prone. The good thing about all those attributes is that there are numerous stories to relate to my beloved readers.

Like the time her hair caught on fire. It was a lovely Hannukah night, probably one of the later days since there were so many candles lit on the menorah. We were all excited, getting ready to open presents and eat latkes and other Jewish stuff. Suddenly, there was a scream and a burst of light. My sisters hair had taken to the flame like Whitney Houston to a crack pipe. It must have been put out quickly since there were no fire trucks or ER visits, but those seconds of smelly burnt hair were enough for years of laughter at her expense.

Then there was the time her head got rolled up in the car window. My dad was driving his Ford Focus with his three kids being their usual rambunctious selves. My sister had her head out the window like a playful puppy, hair blowing in the window and giggling. Suddenly, unbeknownst to the doglike child, the window started rolling up. She didn't notice until it was too late. Then the screaming started, followed by my brother and me laughing hysterically.

"Dad!!!! Dad!!!! Stop roling up the window! Stop! It hurts!" she screamed, struggling to pull her head back in.

"What are you talking about?" Dad asked. He wasn't rolling up the window.

"Roll it down!! Ow!! Ow!!!" she wailed.

Then Dad figured it out.

"Take your hand off the window button. "

She was rolling her window up herself. Between the screams and fear, it took her a few seconds to register what he was saying, so my brother and I got at least fifteen more seconds of unrelenting joy.

One day we were all out riding bikes with Dad. We were calling each other names and riding along under the summer sun. Then my brother and I zeroed in on the easy target, little sister. After we exhausted insults like "poo brain," "booger eater," and "dork face" one of us decided to make up a word and see how it worked. I wish I could remember the actual word, but since I don't I will make one up. The taunts began.

"Hey zorktron, why don't you pedal faster!"

"Hey zorktron, you smell like a butt!"

"What ya doin, zorktron?"

"Shutup!" she squeeled.

"Ok, zorktron, I'll shut up," I said.

"I'm not a zorktron," she said, starting to cry.

"Oh yes you are, zorktron," my brother retorted.

"Oh yeah?" she said.

"ZORK-TRON! ZORK-TRON! ZOR-TRON!" we chanted in a deafening sibling roar.

In a forceful effort to prove to us she was not a zorktron, my sister launched into a pedal pumping attack. With gaining speed, she crashed her white and purple training wheel clad bicycle into my back wheel. Then she fell over, getting a few scrapes. Way to go, Zorktron.

There are so many stories from childhood revolving around my sister that I may have to start a bi-monthly series. We'll have to see.


Thursday, June 9, 2011

Bloody Hell

So I am menstruating. Isn't that incredible. What a way to embrace my femininity. Not! This sucks, but it is something I have learned to live with. This specific period has led me to be extra hot and swollen, and not in a porntastic way. I'm not one to stoically hide my discomfort, which led me to utter some of the montrosities of speech you'll see below.

I was having a run of the mill phone conversation with M'lady yesterday. We talked about dinner and school and said the regular "I love you's." I know it is hard to believe that I could be at a loss for words, but neither one of was very chatty. After hanging up I sent her a text.

ME:Oh, I forgot to mention that my pussy is bleeding like a stuck pig.

M'LADY: That just put the most disturbing image in my mind.

She described the image to me later on in shocking detail, which has been artistically interpreted below.

Disturbing indeed.

This was just the beginning. Later on that night, we were playing Qwirkle with The Man, and the following conversation ensued.

ME: Ugh! My mouth is so hot! I just want some frozen yogurt. You know, you could put the spout directly to my mouth, and while you're at it, put some in my vagina. Mmmm, that would feel nice. Yogurt is good for the natural flora you know.

M'LADY: Umm, not directly in your vag, hon.

ME: Whatever, I read a home remedy about it online. You just soak a tampon in yogurt then shove it up there.

THE MAN: That can't be good for you.

M'LADY: For real. What kind do you use, strawberry? Hahahaha!

ME: No, silly. You have to get the kind with probiotics.

THE MAN: Probiotics shouldn't go into your body. Well, I mean they can go through your digestive tract, but they definitely shouldn't go into your pussy.

ME: I wouldn't ACTUALLY do it. Geez. It would just FEEL good. Don't judge, I read this before I went to nursing school.

M'LADY: Was it before you went to Common Sense school too?

ME: Fuck you, I don't want common sense.

M'LADY: That is quite apparent. I'll be right back.

I abandoned the discussion as she left to ponder making ice cubes that looked like Qwirkle pieces but would turn clear when they melted, which is ironic, because she came back with an ice cube and put it up my hoo-ha. (Although it felt delightful, I do not recommend putting ice in your hoo-ha. It's no bueno to put water in there, I just don't care about degrees of bueno-ness.) We continued our game of Qwirkle and suddenly, I had to pee. I got up and immediately remembered that ice + body warmth = cold water.

ME: Oh god, I'll be right back.

M'LADY and THE MAN: Hahahahahajajajajajjahahahahajajahahajahjahaja!

I neared the bathroom door as watery blood dripped down my legs.

ME: Jesus! It looks like koolaid.

I sat down and the remaining contents of my ice cold menstruation made it's exit. Apparently it sounded quite disturbing because The Man was in the other room with a face contorted like five car pile up.

ME: It looks like a fucking massacre in here.

M'LADY: Oh god, did you leave a trail? Hahahaha

ME: You guys said you wanted stained concrete, right?

THE MAN: Ok that's enough! You have to stop! I can't take anymore of the period talk. Seriously. You two have gone beyond nastiness. Please stop! For the love of god!

ME: Stop telling me what to do or I'll squirt koolaid in your face!

THE MAN: Really?

I flushed the toilet, jumped in the shower, toweled off and jumped back in bed.

ME: I can't help it. I LOVE YOU!

And then it was time for bed.