Once a brat, always a brat!

Once a brat, always a brat!

Last weekend my brother went to go stay with my Dad for a few days.  Although that meant the drive to Houston, there was no way I would miss being with my brother and sister.  Put the three of us in a room together and we will not only be inappropriate, but the laughter will be nearly nonstop.  I thoroughly enjoy them.  If there is a comment to be made that is inappropriate, one of us will make it. Take for instance when a sportscaster came on TV.

“He has a face for radio!”

“Totally tanorexic!”

“Did he get run over sideways by a steamroller?  No one can be that FLAT sideways without intervention!”

And on and on went the tacky (and might I admit rude) comments.  My Dad stared at the three of us.  (This is where I say he was appalled at the horrible children he raised and was shocked that we were so tacky, but I cannot.) He laughed.  He did throw in the obligatory, “You three are bad.  Totally your mother’s influence.”

Okay, so admitting we were mean towards another human being is not so much the highlight of who we are as people.  But the point is…we laugh.  It doesn’t matter what we are talking about, it is like getting 3 comedians who have their timing down perfectly after a lifetime together and letting the zingers fly.  It was nice to be together.  (Only a few more weeks and we will be together again!) We even got to go to the local Mexican restaurant and eat real Mexican food with really strong margaritas.  Laughter & margaritas.  This adult hanging out so beats the hell out of the childhood hanging out! Although, that rocked as well since it involved bikes with cards clothes-pinned to the spokes to sound like we had motorcycles, Kool-Aid and sweating.  Lots of sweating as a kid in Texas.  (But at that time, we all knew what to do and where to go when you were thirsty.  The nearest yard hose.  Always had FREE water.) We were one bad ass, Kool-Aid drinking, water hose stealing gang of hoodlums.  Oh yeah, baby!

But see, here is the thing.  I am the youngest.  All attention must be paid to me.  Why?  Because I am the youngest.  However, this didn’t seem to work out as planned.  I got there on Friday night and left on Monday morning.  Want to guess what night everyone decided to go to the steakhouse for dinner?  Come on.  Guess.  Monday night.  Was I pouting about it?  Acting immature?  Being a brat?  Oh hell yes, I was.  In order to make them feel the most guilt possible, I called all of their cell phones and left messages like, “Are you thinking about me?  You should be.  Do you know that I am not there?  Feel free to discuss it among yourselves.” All of them got a similar message.  Except my brother who actually picked up.

“What?” (Is that any way for a grown man to answer his phone?)

“Do you miss me?  Are you thinking about the fact that I am not there?” (Imagine adult whining.  Totally have it down to an art form.)

“Nope.  In fact, I forgot you were ever here.  Who is this again?”

“That is SO NOT funny, buttmunch.” (I am the queen of mature comebacks, let me tell you!)


“I’m telling!”

See?  Once a brat, always a brat! 

We are totally psyched to get together this summer.


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