Post by aquarianstar on Oct 16, 2005 9:43:45 GMT -5
Oh Brother...
This is just me having some fun... but then it morphed into a rant... oops...
Little Brothers, as I’m sure anyone with experience will agree, are the most positively frustrating species to ever roam earth. And yes, as I write this I can just picture all of the blissfully unaware people raising their eyebrows in disbelief. If you are one of these privileged people, you have no idea how lucky you are.
I am currently living with one of the most dangerous and terrifying of their kind… the ten year old. Yes, the in between age when they are young enough to drive you around the bend and old enough to have the smarts to get away with it. This is no laughing matter. Especially not for the victim, who once in their clutches, cannot escape.
I will start with the least of my problems. I am due into school every weekday morning at ten past nine (and that’s cutting it fine). My Little Brother on the other hand, isn’t due in until twenty past. Now, do you really need me to tell you what happens next? Well, the bare bones would be that I arrive at school, flushed and breathless (not a great image by the way) with about ten seconds to get to class. Which usually results in me shoving my bag into my locker and forgetting half of my homework. The reason for this is of course the Little Brother. He will wake up at about half eight and doze for a while as if he had all the time in the world. And when I say doze I don’t mean the ‘Eyes Are Closed But Still Awake Really’ kind of doze. No. When Little Brothers ‘doze’, they become utterly unreachable. If the Guy Upstairs decided to have it out with Lucifer there and then, he’d sleep through the lot.
Then I come home afterwards and start on whatever homework I’m supposed to be doing. So I’ve settled in, got my glass of water, window open slightly, bit of music in the background. Just have the point of the pen on the page and wham! It begins. The constant interruptions, usually caused by the sudden urgent need of the Little Brother to know why exactly the sky is blue, and why do humans have eight fingers instead of fifty? Information, which of course, surprise, only the Big Sister can provide at that point in time. And of course this information is vitally important and must be recounted at that exact moment or else the Little Brother stands no chance of surviving another second. I’ve considered just not telling him a few times actually, see if it works…
Then the evening moves on into recreational time for me. (Snorts with laughter). Yeah right! So I’m in my room (most nights) listening to my music (which I NEED to survive!) and there’s a knock at the door.
‘Who is it?’ I’ll yell over the heavy metal beating the sound system to pieces in the most glorious way.
‘Me’.
This is my cue to turn the music up even louder, padlock the door and drop the portcullis. I call my guards, fully armed, and they will take up an aggressive stance at the door, making me feel a little safer. Then I barricade the windows and set the alarm.
In my dreams, that is.
In reality, I will grudgingly open the door a fraction of an inch and say
‘What!’ in the most irritated tone of voice I can muster.
‘Do you want to play the Playstation?’
Ok, so here I should probably say that I hold little interest in video games and the like, I only play a very select few, which I go to great lengths to perfect my game with. However, my Little Brother, although aware of this, will ask me every night if I want to play some mediocre, boring game that (I’m sure) was designed with purely the intention of driving you insane, hoping that I’ll have a revelation and change my mind.
I don’t think I have to put you through my answer. It contains a lot of words that would have to be censored in order to insure my good health in the near future. Actually, now that I think about it, if you remove the offensive parts, there’s really nothing to it.
So this is all I have to say about my Little Brother. Well I suppose that there is a thousand little things that I could mention too, but I’d be well into the afterlife and still typing if I attempted to recount everything. I suppose, maybe, my Little Brother may have one or two good points, but they’re hardly worth mentioning. I guess he’s a great dish washer…
But I could get better… So if anyone out there has a fairly tolerable, sister maybe, who would be interested in a swap, (you’d be insane but heck) get in touch.
Sarah D
This is just me having some fun... but then it morphed into a rant... oops...
Little Brothers, as I’m sure anyone with experience will agree, are the most positively frustrating species to ever roam earth. And yes, as I write this I can just picture all of the blissfully unaware people raising their eyebrows in disbelief. If you are one of these privileged people, you have no idea how lucky you are.
I am currently living with one of the most dangerous and terrifying of their kind… the ten year old. Yes, the in between age when they are young enough to drive you around the bend and old enough to have the smarts to get away with it. This is no laughing matter. Especially not for the victim, who once in their clutches, cannot escape.
I will start with the least of my problems. I am due into school every weekday morning at ten past nine (and that’s cutting it fine). My Little Brother on the other hand, isn’t due in until twenty past. Now, do you really need me to tell you what happens next? Well, the bare bones would be that I arrive at school, flushed and breathless (not a great image by the way) with about ten seconds to get to class. Which usually results in me shoving my bag into my locker and forgetting half of my homework. The reason for this is of course the Little Brother. He will wake up at about half eight and doze for a while as if he had all the time in the world. And when I say doze I don’t mean the ‘Eyes Are Closed But Still Awake Really’ kind of doze. No. When Little Brothers ‘doze’, they become utterly unreachable. If the Guy Upstairs decided to have it out with Lucifer there and then, he’d sleep through the lot.
Then I come home afterwards and start on whatever homework I’m supposed to be doing. So I’ve settled in, got my glass of water, window open slightly, bit of music in the background. Just have the point of the pen on the page and wham! It begins. The constant interruptions, usually caused by the sudden urgent need of the Little Brother to know why exactly the sky is blue, and why do humans have eight fingers instead of fifty? Information, which of course, surprise, only the Big Sister can provide at that point in time. And of course this information is vitally important and must be recounted at that exact moment or else the Little Brother stands no chance of surviving another second. I’ve considered just not telling him a few times actually, see if it works…
Then the evening moves on into recreational time for me. (Snorts with laughter). Yeah right! So I’m in my room (most nights) listening to my music (which I NEED to survive!) and there’s a knock at the door.
‘Who is it?’ I’ll yell over the heavy metal beating the sound system to pieces in the most glorious way.
‘Me’.
This is my cue to turn the music up even louder, padlock the door and drop the portcullis. I call my guards, fully armed, and they will take up an aggressive stance at the door, making me feel a little safer. Then I barricade the windows and set the alarm.
In my dreams, that is.
In reality, I will grudgingly open the door a fraction of an inch and say
‘What!’ in the most irritated tone of voice I can muster.
‘Do you want to play the Playstation?’
Ok, so here I should probably say that I hold little interest in video games and the like, I only play a very select few, which I go to great lengths to perfect my game with. However, my Little Brother, although aware of this, will ask me every night if I want to play some mediocre, boring game that (I’m sure) was designed with purely the intention of driving you insane, hoping that I’ll have a revelation and change my mind.
I don’t think I have to put you through my answer. It contains a lot of words that would have to be censored in order to insure my good health in the near future. Actually, now that I think about it, if you remove the offensive parts, there’s really nothing to it.
So this is all I have to say about my Little Brother. Well I suppose that there is a thousand little things that I could mention too, but I’d be well into the afterlife and still typing if I attempted to recount everything. I suppose, maybe, my Little Brother may have one or two good points, but they’re hardly worth mentioning. I guess he’s a great dish washer…
But I could get better… So if anyone out there has a fairly tolerable, sister maybe, who would be interested in a swap, (you’d be insane but heck) get in touch.
Sarah D
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
