A-
First of all, you really need to mind your own business. In case you forgot, I am a father as well. Do me a favor and stay out of my life. We are all so sick of you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You have know idea or the circumstances of that day. Haven't you learned to keep your mouth shut yet. Don't ever talk to me like the way you did in your email. I don't know who you think you are. You know most of us think you are nothing but a snobby, spoiled girl who has been given everything but knows nothing about the real world, so Shut It!
B-
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Dear Big Brother,
Your maturity astounds me. The issue is not me and you; it's the fact that you ditched your Father's Day plans with dad and didn't let him know till half the day had gone by. He called and you let him sit by the phone waiting all day long until you were ready to call with the news that you were not driving up to visit. He spent the day alone, which is superb. He broke plans off with me since you come around so infrequently, and you didn't give him enough notice so that he and I could have spent the day together.
Before I end this letter there are three points I'd like to address:
1. Just because you are a father doesn't make you a great son. Since bailing out is what you do, besides your other hobby of borrowing money and calling it an early inheritance rather than paying it back, that means you are a shi-tastic son. Way to go!
2. Never imply that your life was so much harder than mine, and that my life was simply given to me. You went to public school, boo fricken hoo. Dad offered to pay for your college just like mine, but, dear brother, whereas I studied and ended up with a diploma. You partied and lasted, oh, how long was it? A quarter, six months? The point is that I wasn't handed A's in high school, college, or grad school; I earned them. There's this radical method called studying...maybe you should have tried it rather than drinking from a bong.
3. To tell me to get out of your life would imply that I was in it. It's not very hard to exit when you've never truly been invited in. I heard via grape vine that you had married seven months after it happened, although Dad and the rest of the family heard that way too (see you are a great son! Way to go!), it wasn't until she was about to burst that I found out she was prego, hmmm...and the list goes on.
4. Oh, and I guess I lied. One last point, which has to do with sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Yes, I should be more like you when it comes to this point. Your wisdom rings true. So when we discovered that our niece had fleas I shouldn't have said a word. Maybe I should have sent over a dog collar and pretended it was a bracelet. Gee, bro, you are so right! Who cares if her scalp is crawling with fleas, she smells like cat pee, and she's going deaf because of her filthy environment! Thank you for showing me the light!
Sincerely,
Your favorite lil sis
Your maturity astounds me. The issue is not me and you; it's the fact that you ditched your Father's Day plans with dad and didn't let him know till half the day had gone by. He called and you let him sit by the phone waiting all day long until you were ready to call with the news that you were not driving up to visit. He spent the day alone, which is superb. He broke plans off with me since you come around so infrequently, and you didn't give him enough notice so that he and I could have spent the day together.
Before I end this letter there are three points I'd like to address:
1. Just because you are a father doesn't make you a great son. Since bailing out is what you do, besides your other hobby of borrowing money and calling it an early inheritance rather than paying it back, that means you are a shi-tastic son. Way to go!
2. Never imply that your life was so much harder than mine, and that my life was simply given to me. You went to public school, boo fricken hoo. Dad offered to pay for your college just like mine, but, dear brother, whereas I studied and ended up with a diploma. You partied and lasted, oh, how long was it? A quarter, six months? The point is that I wasn't handed A's in high school, college, or grad school; I earned them. There's this radical method called studying...maybe you should have tried it rather than drinking from a bong.
3. To tell me to get out of your life would imply that I was in it. It's not very hard to exit when you've never truly been invited in. I heard via grape vine that you had married seven months after it happened, although Dad and the rest of the family heard that way too (see you are a great son! Way to go!), it wasn't until she was about to burst that I found out she was prego, hmmm...and the list goes on.
4. Oh, and I guess I lied. One last point, which has to do with sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Yes, I should be more like you when it comes to this point. Your wisdom rings true. So when we discovered that our niece had fleas I shouldn't have said a word. Maybe I should have sent over a dog collar and pretended it was a bracelet. Gee, bro, you are so right! Who cares if her scalp is crawling with fleas, she smells like cat pee, and she's going deaf because of her filthy environment! Thank you for showing me the light!
Sincerely,
Your favorite lil sis
Monday, June 28, 2010
My Infinitesimal Brother
What is worse? Being considered a snobby bitch or a selfish prick who only comes around the family when he wants to borrow money? Someone who studied and went to college or the screwball who took wedding money, broke off the engagement, spent it, and claimed that it was his early inheritance? Honestly, my brother is the biggest douche bag in the world, I mean king of douche bags and deserves some kind of award for his supreme doucheness. I still can’t believe he blew off his own father on Father’s Day, returning dad’s phone call five hours later to say p.s. I’m not coming. Dad broke plans with his other children ie me so Prince Prick could come and visit, and then what does he do? Yes, his royal doucheness cancels. Well, all I can say is that I hope his son turns out to be just like him. I hope one day my little nephew will teach my brother what it’s like to be treated so poorly. Maybe then he’ll realize that we don’t just live in his world to serve him.
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