Big Sister Brags: Story at 10. Or 1. Whatever.
2005-06-21 at 12:21 a.m.
Okay, you have to read my previous entry (just click on the left for "last") but I just wrote this in a drunken orgy of sibling love (ewwww! not nearly as gross as that sounds!!!!).Reasons my sibs are cooler than me
My bro lives in Brooklyn. I mean, BROOKLYN. And not even in Williamsburg, where it�s almost pass� to be hip, but in Greenpoint, which is so geeky it�s hip. Plus? You can see the Chrysler building from their living room.
My sister? Um. Paris. �Nuff said.
My bro�s wife works for Coach. And is a size 2 petite. I AM A SIXTEEN. MOST STORES DON�T CARRY ANYTHING IN A SIXTEEN. MUCH LESS A SIXTEEN TALL. She shops hip stores and buys thrift. If I were to buy thrift, it�d be Man Pants than give you a Man Crotch. Attractive if you have or want something to put there. I don�t want to smuggle sausage-shaped items. She? finds adorable shoes, pants, everything. That don�t have Man Crotch.
My sister�s boyfriend? HOTTT. Seriously. Serge? Toi? TU ES TRES CHAUD. Comment dit-on ca en francais? TRES CHAUD. If I write it in caps like that I don�t have to use accents. TRES CHAUD, TOI!
My brother? works in documentary films. and has been in Wired Magazine. Me? I�ve been published, too. In Teaching Statistics. Somehow, not quite the same thing.
My sister wrote her senior thesis on Barbie. Me? GRAPHING THEORY. And that? Not nearly as cool as it sounds.
My sister works in a bookstore in Paris. JESUS GOD KILL ME NOW.
My brother has a rooftop view of the entire isle of Manhattan. I have one of moss and things I need to clean out of my gutters. Like a dandelion that grew so big and died so spectacularly that it�s like a porch chandelier of dead dandelion.
My sister has fights with her boyfriend that involve her flinging his clothes out of their seventh-floor apartment, only to have them get caught on her fifth-floor-neighbors window ledges. Andrew and I? fight and storm off to the grocery store. Which is two blocks away. And then we come back with hamburger buns and cottage cheese because we needed that anyway and hey, we were there.
My brother doesn�t even keep hamburger buns and cottage cheese around because they eat out so often.
My sister can make a funny story out of walking to the supermarket.
My brother can find empathy in everyone.
My sister is so much smarter than she thinks she is, and she's pretty sure she's damn smart.
My brother has become more reliable than he ever thought he could be. And, frankly, more reliable than most of us, including his fourth grade teacher, ever predicted he would be. And more practical.
(That said: I�m so PROUD to be their sister. I just wish I gave them as much shit to brag about! �My sister, she�s� awfully tall!�)