Anyway, my brother didn't send one to me. Instead when he got back, he decided to post the following to my other brother. To fully get this letter you have to know that David gets his kicks on Facebook by messing with his profile page. At the time of this post, he was a widower living in Cape May but formerly from Flatbush. He's also a surgeon who gives museum tours in his spare time while waiting to graduate from high school. (yeah none of this is true.)
Over the weekend the women decided to profess their love for one another Facebook style. They neglected to mention the men in their lives. We can't help it if you were lame and out of touch. Now since you and I know how we feel about each other (we're way too cool for public displays of sibling affection) I propose we profess our love of butt nekkid hoes, hood rats, fly honeys and old-fashioned prostitutes. And all this time I thought a ho was a ho was a ho. Obviously, I've lived a sheltered life. To do this, I think we need to take our space shuttle to go kayaking on the moon with some of Tiger Wood's leftovers Wait. He left some?, then pour out a little liquor for your dead wife in Flatbush and celebrate her life and times by visiting all the gentleman's establishments in the greater Cape May area. Yeah that's exactly what I want my husband to do when I'm gone. Right after he goes blind with grief. What say you?
Unfortunately David did not respond so I did instead.
Dear Little Brother, Yes, his status as nearly two years younger means that despite the fact that he is half a foot taller than me, he will always be little.
This is to warn you of heading to places without Internet service (like Massachusetts). Not only do you miss out on sending me letters for the cyber world's amusement but you are also reduced to semi attired women and booze for entertainment. Lucky for you it was cold and rainy this weekend or you would have also missed out on a rockin barbecue. You have been warned.
My favorite older sister, Despite the fact that I am his only older sister, I choose to take this as a compliment.
You know that feeling when you check the mailbox and you have a letter from a good friend you never hear from? If I never hear from them, why are they my friends? No? Me either. We're not THAT old. Got that right. But I've heard that it's a pretty good feeling. This must be almost like that, only completely different. Because let's face it, there's no feeling like getting a letter that you asked -nay, demanded- from someone. Hopefully this letter feels like that feeling you get from a friend who forgot your actual birthday but called you like a week later and said happy belated birthday. You mean friends in the hospital with amnesia? Cause that's the only acceptable excuse. You know that feeling? Again, not so much. Me either. Anyway for your next blog, if you could write to the writers of ALL reality TV, I would appreciate it because American Idol isn't the only reality show that sucks this year. (See Stars, Dancing with the and Apprentice, Celebrity) K Thanks. Bye.
Sometime after these posts and the corresponding 64 comments that followed mine (not even the record yet) my brother posted this status. J is getting ready to delete 6.3 million emails from facebook...thanks girls. To which I responded, Your welcome, of course.