Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Afloja?

Know I love you if I do the following, (some of them even without being asked):
  • Cook for you.
  • Give you a pedicure.
  • Give you my gmail address.
  • Download Google Chrome at your insistence, even after I hear you cuss out GC for crashing on you for the third time in half an hour.
  • Look up football scores for you.
  • Watch Notre Dame basketball with you.
  • Play Donkey Kong Country Returns until I lose all feeling on both thumbs, and have to be asked to calm down repeatedly after going on an obscene diatribe against Diddy Kong.
  • Allow you to bite the top of my head... a la "Animal Planet." (Fucking weirdo)
  • Allow you to tackle me without punching your face or kicking your balls.
  • Hand you my car keys after 11PM.
  • ANSWER YOUR PHONE CALL AT 3 IN THE MORNING.
  • Allow you to cough in my presence... in my direction.
  • Allow you to think you know more than I do when it comes to Rock en Español only because you have Bajofondo in your iPod and I don't (Get out of here).
  • Accompany you to sing along to Too $hort, at the top of my lungs, in front of Mom. Not only that, but I also allow you to insinuate I'd EVER be part of Too $hort's "stable" (GET OUTTA HERE!).

Having my brother over for the last... almost two weeks was great... even if I had to break his heart on his third day of vacation. I feel satisfied knowing I liberated him from the ghost of Alo. He can finally start the healing process and move the fuck on.
I love him. And I appreciate his ability to make us go back to these days (when I was still taller than him, ha!):
Little jerk was so happy because he was going to punch me shortly after. 
Makes me want to replace his Kindle (poor guy was more devastated over forgetting his Kindle on the plane than he was over the love of his life marrying a possessive, rich psychopath). But I'm broke.

It's crazy how desperately we try to hold on to as many minutes together as possible... when back in the day, all I wanted to do was convince my parents to send him to boarding school.

I hate goodbyes.

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