apples, oranges, we’re all round

29Jun07

My sister, on the phone, started with this:

…this guy was such an apple.

An apple?

Uh huh…an apple.

(I guess that’s what the kids are saying these days)
Wait, are you saying APPLE?

Yeah, AP-PUHL.

*crickets*

So, are some people, like, oranges?

WHAT??

If some people are apples, are other people oranges?
I mean, I still don’t understand what an apple is.

Oh my gawd, not apple, A-S-S-H-O-L-E.

We laughed, oh how we laughed…

good times

*sniff*

But even without a bad phone connection, my sister and I usually are not on the same page.

I was moving to New York, and needed company more than help packing (I had never actually unpacked in my temporary apartment between cities) and my sister offered to fly in to do both.

I was so excited and desperately needed my family to support me in my very unpopular decision to end my first marriage. Two days before she was scheduled to show up, we were on the phone again with my sister starting with this:

I am so broke. I don’t think I’ll have enough money to pay for the plane ticket.

Oh, I totally understand. It’s alright.

It’s just that…I spent $500 on this Gaultier dress and I just, I’m totally broke.

*angry fuming crickets*

Right before she said that, I was completely okay with her being broke and not being able to help me. I’d been there.

After she said it, I was flabbergasted and really, just unbelievably pissed off at her. I had been in dire need of her support. Years later, we tried to clear the air between us and speak our minds without inadvertently trampling over each others feelings.

I brought up the Gaultier incident, as I had come to think of it.

She looked at me blankly and wanted to know why that was an issue.

It’s not easy letting people in when the people closest to you won’t apologize for being a dumbass.

I won’t do it for her either. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not the perfect sister here, although I’m on my third apartment hunt for her as she embarks on med school, and have moved her shit and given her printers, couches, beds, the list goes on. I’m just saying, even though it seems like I’m a perfect sister, I’m not.

She was there when Max was born. It was her and the mister in the birthing room. Everyone was freaking out…except for her. She was a rock.

My sister, a friend tells me, has to contend with my shadow. Granted, I’m 2-3 dress sizes larger than her so if she’s talking about the difficulty one would encounter in trying to escape my larger than thou shadow on a sunny day, well, you suck…meanie.

My little sister is a hyper competitive scholar, musician, scientist and she is making me crazy with this third apartment search that we’re doing for her. She’s taken the mister’s off-the-cuff comment about buying a studio apartment as his office/apt for her and has just broken the news to us that my parents are expecting that from us also.

Granted, we are richass, but this is a disaster. You realize I was JOKING when I wrote that, right? She knows that I write this, but I’ve never told her the name or the link. Is “fate” coming after me for being a cocky, obnoxious little mutha?

I thought that by writing this, I would eventually come to some sort of insight about the sitchyation.

Here I am, at the end of it, with nothing else to say and I’m still scratching my head.

The good news is that Oh the Joys sent me a big fat smooch.

I smooch you back joyja with a little twist on your twist.
(Mutha Crafter button purchasable on Etsy)

Baby on Bored also totally frenched me (hahahah, who says frenched? uh, me.).
I’m frenching you back baby.

Mama Saga has also just offered me a big wet one. This time, no tongue, just once on each cheek…but which cheeks? uh huh. (and this just happened). Now that I’m nearing 1:00 in the morning again, I’m slumped low on the couch, and I gladly reciprocate luxy lady. And I have no qualms about kissing any of your cheeks.

So the protocol seems to be: copy the button, pass it on.

Baby on Bored
Mama Nabi
32 Flavors
Bianca Bean
Mama Mia no Sabia
and everyone to your right >>>>>>>>it is now Mandatory to paste one of these buttons onto your blog, thank me, and then tell everyone that you’re blushing.

I’m joking. and don’t ask me to buy you an apartment.

The bad news, other than the depressing possibility that I might have a 3rd mortgage in the near future, is that I’m delinquent on some writing assignments on feminism and charities.

I’m still thinking…about all of it.
(including the amazingly bad title of this post)

Filed under: assholes, luff, mffghmp, richass, seestah   |  7 Comments