My sister, Skinny Girl, and I have an amazingly close relationship. We were the last two of 14 children. We were planned pregnancies – I’m just certain of it! No, really. Okay, I’m lying (about the being planned part).
Anyhoo, when I lived in Southwest Washington, we would have lunch together once a week. We’d sit in this Mexican restaurant and laugh to the point of it being contagious. People thought we were nuts. We are two birds of a feather.
She sent me an email earlier today that I haven’t been able to stop laughing at. It may very well mean nothing to any of you three readers who actually read my blog, but I felt compelled to share it here.
Skinny Girl is OCD about her house. In fact, her house is so immaculate that if she wanted to sell it tomorrow, a realtor could stick a sign in the yard and Skinny Girl wouldn’t have to get the house “show ready” it’s that put together.
Apparently my 17-year old niece (The Model) has convinced my sister and her husband that she needs a dog. Skinny Girl has managed to avoid this for many, many years. Well, her husband finally gave in with the “whatever” response and now Skinny Girl’s immaculate home is overrun with all things dog.
My entire family has the same sense of humor I have. It’s a heckler-type sense of humor. Sarcastic. Silly. Raucous. Boisterous. Mischievous. Uproarious. Crass. There is a core strip of “snob” in all of us girls. This email is indicative of that sense of humor. Especially the third paragraph.
Gawd sis - I just do not have the energy for this puppy. 3:00 a.m. this morning whine, whine, whine, bark, bark, bark. While The Model blissfully sleeps the night away. I like my house how I like it you know? And now, just 2 days after I mopped my kitchen floor, I have a dog crate, dog dishes, dog toys, etc. I don't like it. I've vacuumed the floors half a dozen times already. It's just ICK. She went out this morning and had diarrhea on the deck. I'm like, hating this damn dog. 1/2 rat terrier - 1/2 chihuahua.
No lunch again today - gawd I hate this place. The new manager has got everyone wearing flip flops, no pantyhose, etc. Unreal man. It's a professional office not a gawd damn tee shirt stand by the beach. I hate what it's become. I'm working all kinds of overtime. I want so badly to go work for brand 'x' but they'll pay me so much less.
Anyway, I'm the only one that still wears pantyhose and heels. Friggin' jungle print capri pants and t-shirts. Flip flops with toe rings and white crusty heels. *shiver* Ever heard of LOTION ASSHOLES???? Yuck.
My sister rocks. You go girl. Tell it like it is!!! There was never any doubt we were cut from the same cloth!