Friday, July 6, 2012

My Irish twin...



I had to let you know about my brother.


Today is his 30th birthday! He's less than 11 months older than me. That makes us Irish twins. Not sure if you realize it or not but I kinda love the shit outta him.




Dressed alike for family pics in December


A possible indicator of this could be this post , this one , or that one, and even an honorable mention in this other one!


Here are few little Matthew stories:

When we were little, my mom was a bad ass toy slinger for Discovery Toys and sometimes it would take her out of town. I can't imagine that career line took her anywhere too exotic; she was probably in Bixby or something. Our dad was responsible for making sure my brother and I didn't die. He had made us a big steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese that I am sure he was adorably proud of. Matthew and I were 4 and 5, playing on the floor with some rocks we had pulled out of the flower bed. They were those big white crystally looking pointy rocks. We saw Dad coming and scrambled up to the table to get in our seats, leaving a few of the rocks in the pathway of the casserole-toting/loving dad of ours. When Dad felt those ridiculous unforgiving crystal points of the rocks against the sensitive bare skin on the arch of his foot, he immediately stumbled around awkwardly and tossed the steaming food onto the table.



"WHO PUT THESE ROCKS HERE? WHOSE ROCKS ARE THESE?!?"

Matthew and I looked at each other, terrified, and Matthew looked at my Dad with his sweet little face and said...

"They're your rocks Dad......I painted them for you."

"OH. WELL. UH. I GUESS I BETTER BE CAREFUL WHERE I PUT MY ROCKS."
































My next favorite story is the one about the time he locked me out of the house and I peed my pants.


Oh wait. That totally sucked and I hate that day.




Here's another cute picture.


I'm sure if I wasn't blocking, we could see his little boy ball huggers






When he was 16, he drove the 1989 Toyota LE  to school. He gave zero fucks that it was a giant silver van. I, on the other hand, pretty much only cared about finding purses that would make my boobs look the biggest when I wore it cross-body. I pretended like I didn't even know him when he was in that van. (I hate 1998 Mary too, okay?)  He would pull up beside me at school when I was spitting my game at an upperclassman and start waving at me enthusiastically. I would yell at him about it later and rip the phone cord out of the wall so it would kick him off AOL. He would just laugh at me and think I sucked. Which. I did.


One day, my "boyfriend" "Amus"  didn't give me a ride home from school because he didn't like me. I was wandering the halls asking friends for quarters to call someone to pick me up. Matthew walked by and asked why I was still there and said a cuss word or two about Amus. He said to come on, he'd take me home. I looked out the window to the parking lot to make a mental record of the cool people that could possibly view this happening. I shook my head. NO way I was gonna be seen in that giant metal thing. He walked out to his car and it only took me about 45 seconds to change my mind. I could just duck down in the passenger seat. I ran out there to catch up with him and hopped in the passenger seat and ducked down on the floor. He drove a few feet, put the car in park and jumped out. 

Matthew: Get out of the car, Mary.

Mary: What? No! Everyone is looking. 

Matthew: I'm not taking you home like this. 

Mary: Shut the freak up and close the door and get back in the car. OH MY GOD. You're so embarrassing. 

Matthew: I'm not driving. (Starts waving at people and pointing to me crouched down in the floorboard)

Mary: STOP! Matthew stop! 

Matthew: If you want to get home, you have to drive. 

Mary: I am not driving this thing while juniors and seniors are still in the parking lot. 

Matthew: Then you're not getting home and I am going to continue to wave at people. 

Someone with a cool Mitsubishi pulls up behind us and lays down the horn for us to move. They probably have swoopy hair and bad grades. Them seeing me like this was unacceptable. I jumped across the console and yelled at Matthew to get in the car. I had a driver's permit and I was gonna use it. 

Mary: Get in the car, Matthew. Now!

We drove through the parking lot. 

Matthew: Roll your window down, Marigold. Wave at the boys. 

Mary: I hate you. 

Matthew: WOOOOO! HEY GUYS! MARY'S IN THE CAR! WOOOO! LOOK OVER HERE! SHE'S DRIVING THIS THING HERSELF AND SHE LOVES IT! SHE WANTS YOU TO LOOK AT HER DRIVING! 



He was such an ass and pushed me so far that I ended up hurting myself I was laughing so hard. I was so angry, but he was so ridiculous and embarrassing that I couldn't take it and ended up waving at cool people just to make my brother think I was careless and fun like him. 




I'm not real sure what we are wearing/doing in this lovely picture



So....he makes me very happy.


I'll leave your birthday present right here right now. Enjoy. 



Happy birthday to a guy who never cares that squished balls ruined a good picture






I wish, more than anything, we could see our striped socks in this  picture. You know we had them .








Proof I was nice to you at least one day. Even if you had a temperature of 112 and it was just for the photo op.









Dad made us pose like this, the next picture in the stack was me pointing at a pumpkin.











Did you get me a present that year? I hope it was a hacky sack.










My thighs weren't crushing you THAT bad









Nothing says I love Fupa Bear like matching head to toe sweatsuits.





I wouldn't want to touch my 12 year old wanna be sexy face either.











Always waving! hahahahaha












One armed attractiveness gene display





Have a happy birthday! Don't let any girls wearing tights as pants in LA get you down. If you come home to beautiful Oklahoma, where it's only 106 degrees but a mansion costs 200k, I will make you a birthday cake and then stare at it.