Leave it to my brother to derail any tentative hope and happiness my parents might have in regards to him. Some times, I swear, I want to punch him in the face.

He withdrew from his classes at Johnson and Wales.

The Rants and Raves of a Brother's Keeper: beware, thar be Capslock waters ahead. )

So, the morale of the story is that I don't know what to do, or say. I don't know how this is going to pan out, I don't know if this is just going to be another in a long line of stupid heartbreaking mistakes my brother makes. I CERTAINLY don't know how my parents are going to manage this—my brother has worn them down to NUBS because of the things he's done, and continues to do. And I don't know what's going to happen to my brother.

It's funny. My dad and I got our hopes up that going to Johnson and Wales was a turning point for my brother. We really, really believed that he was going to be happy and finish the 4 years. Meanwhile, my mother was making dour bets about how long he was really going to last before he sunk himself and returned to Long Island. Just goes to show my father and I are the incurable optimists, while my mother just knows my brother too well. I just wish I could laugh about that particular family dynamic, instead of it breaking my fucking heart.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to work.
This post comes to you in Handy, Dandy Bullet Points! Bullet Points: for when you haven't updated in forever, and you don't know where to begin!


* I want to host some serious hanging out in my apartment. Like, knitting, tea and movies/tv shows sort of things. Anyone interested? 3 blocks from a M/V stop, convenient bus-age for them un-subwayable! Let's talk!

* Talking about knitting, the urge has finally struck me down--I JUST FINISHED PURCHASING the yarn needed to knit...


I can't even say I find it a particularly ATTRACTIVE scarf, but I've been wanting to knit an obscenely long scarf for a while now, and it is THE Obscenely Long Scarf To End All Long Scarves.

Send help, please.

* Talking about sending help, my consciousness has been COMPLETELY TAKING HOSTAGE BY TOM HARDY. I mean, just just LOOK at this magnificent bastard.

Not fair, sir. Not. Fair.

* Talking about FAIRES, went to the NY Ren Faire. May have to go again closing weekend. I mean, there were attractive ladies swinging swords and preforming abridged Shakespeare. And Nuns. Funny ones. AND I also purchased a new outfit.

My credit card currently HATES. ME.

* Talking about hate, my workplace has been an unhappy place lately. Due to some really, really poor moves on Madame President's part (mainly, not giving credit where it was due, and being obsessed with 1) cutting the budget foolishly and 2) bringing in new part time hires who DON'T know the space like our people do to DO the jobs that OUR people are there to do) people have been quitting. A. Lot. First it was Token!Brit (who left to do producing work on a little Broadway Musical about a man who could be called spiderlike [if you know what I mean], so BULLY HIM!) and then it was one lady in Membership...and today it was ANOTHER lady, who quit EFFECTIVE. IMMEDIATELY.


Pretty much, my work place-what-looks-like-a-castle is declining a'la Camelot--the golden age was wondrous, but people are leaving because the higher up management is getting worse, and I feel an epic battle and fall is coming.

All I know is that Lady!Boss has been looking for a new position else where...and THAT terrifies me. I feel like I shall be the last knight standing, or Geneveire banished to her nunnery, the last tragic survivor of a glorious era...

Ah well. It still pays me at least.

* In happier news, my BROTHER STARTED CULINARY SCHOOL!!!!....Dear God, may he not drop out. Or get kicked out. *frets*. However, is DOES mean I am obligated to visit him in Providence now. Mwhaha. Mwhahahaha. MWHAHAHHAHAHHA!

* I'm going to go make myself a cup of tea. Tea will make me feel better. Yes. Glorious Tea.
Well...I have certainly had better weekends that this last one. But mainly because familial drama necessitated my return to act as buffer and bomb control. I love my brother, but FISH on a STICK he does NOT make things EASY.

The situation has...calmed for now. One can only hope that with his new job, and school load, things will continue to fall into place and he'll stop giving mom and dad and by extension ME a god damned bleeding ulcer.

bitch bitch bitch...get off my freaking lawn you hipster-snappers! )


But I digress. I'm probably only so bitchy about it right now because I'm SICK. Tired, ill, and everyone else in the office is too. DAMN YOU HEAD COLD-LIKE THINGS THAT SUCK THE LIFE AND GOOD WILL FROM MY MARROW!! *SHAKES FIST*

I just want this damnable sinus pressure to go away. I can't concentrate on ANYTHING, which particularly blows because I'm trying to edit this DAMN video footage for this DAMN Man from UNCLE review.

However, my bro did get me a free copy of Sony Vegas video editing software, so there is hope yet for him.

In happier news:


You know the bible story where Jesus curses the fig tree because it didn't have any fruit on it and it withers instantly and dies and you're thinking 'JESUS CHRIST, overreaction much?'? YEA. I NOW TOTALLY SYMPATHIZE WITH JESUS IN THIS MATTER. )

I LOVED the first game. A puzzle-loving, top-hat wearing archaeologist as the main character? Hell Yes. A fun story line with a ton of brain-teasing puzzles and logic problems? BOOM BABY. THANK YOU JAPAN, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER!

back when I was working at the CRM firm from HELL, warm fuzzy thoughts of this game got me through my day, especially when I'd be stumped over a particularly difficult artifact to identify.



I havE been tickled pink over the subway ads for it as well. There are only 20-30 year old women represented in the ads. Target audience, much?


In other news, I've been working on the "Agent Anachronism" review idea I've been kicking around my head since Lindsay mentioned there was interest in having more BFF Nella at thatguywiththeglasses.com. I'm trying to write an skit introduction to the "character" and the purpose of the reviews...but I need a sidekick, at least for the intro. Someone to give me a hand/roll eyes at me while I'm beating my head against a wall, trying to figure out what retro show/movie to review first.

So I emailed my brother, pitched the idea to him, that sort of thing. His response?

"I do not wish to take partake in your outrageous experimentation of this "skit" in which the implications could be disastrous . In other words, maybe!"


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He Ain't Heavy; He's My Brother: OR, an Essay on Being the Eldest AND Adopted

So Much For That Writer's Block... )
England, I love you. You know this. I love you like the older, quirky half brother I might actually have (ah, the joys of being adopted). Your history, culture, patterns of speech, comedic turns, good times and bad amuse me greatly. You know that, push come to shove, I'd help John Adams drop kick Thomas Jefferson in the face if I could for saying France was better than you. And I know you're a nanny state, and your royal family is silly, and you're neck in neck with America for the title of "White Trashiest Country in the World", but your flaws...well, they've always been part of your charms.

But Good God, England, this is going too far.

England, you need another Chesterton and a good smack upside the head. Now, I know I could never hope to fill the intellectual shoes of that man, but don't make me come over there with a couple of friends and A Flying Inn.

I mean, my brother and I had HIGH HOPES--mainly involving you, us, a whirlwind run around Cornwall and a pub crawl throughout your land. My brother and I HAD A TOUCHING, BROTHER/SISTER BONDING MOMENT over this. DON'T DO THIS TO ME, ENGLAND.
1) In the 7 Circles of Archaeological Hell, the seventh circle consists of having to lay line of shovel tests through Staten Island catbriar four feet taller than you. Imagine thorns so sharp and long they scratch you through your jeans and long johns, AND at one point go through your BOOT. Allow me to repeat: A THORN WENT THROUGH MY BOOT.

You have NO idea what my legs look like right now. It's pretty horrific, and they sting like a mo'fo' when I take a shower.

Though, it is a relief to no longer be digging along the Belt Parkway. I like the silence of working in the woods under the Outerbridge Crossing. If it just wasn't for those DAMNABLE CATBRIARS!!!!

Because I need my dose of blasphemy this evening, holy Christ, my everlasting sympathies.

Real Life-related:
1) I'm going to be Oscar Wilde for Halloween!...well, I will, once I modify a coat of mine, and make myself a fabulously foppish purple vest and green cravat. And then on November 1st at a little shindig [livejournal.com profile] muneybags6 is hosting (themed "Saints and Demons: come as your best or worst!") I plan on going as Saint Lucy, with my eyes on a platter. I want to practice staring ahead with dark glasses on while I move my "eyes" to look at the people I'm talking too. I think it would be awesomely creepifying if I did it right.

2) I'm sitting on my grad school application for the March 31 deadline. Just didn't want to go to grad school this spring (assuming I would have gotten in in the first place).

3) My brother and I saw "Fuerza Bruta" on Saturday and it was AMAZING. It was like being in someone else's waking dream; one part nightmare, one part rave, one part "WTF that was AWESOME!". If you want to feel what's it's like to step into Wonderland, GO SEE THIS SHOW. You walk out of it and the rest of the humdrum world feels so much more magical. Just don't expect it to make any sense--just take it in and go for the ride. I mean, women swim in a clear pool as it's lowered within arm's reach of you. It's insane, but a good sort.

1) Everyone. Go to thatguywiththeglasses.com. Watch the videos of my friend [livejournal.com profile] theborderpatrol a.k.a. the Nostalgia Chick. Proceed to laugh yourself silly. The Anastasia review is a particular favorite of mine (though I LOVE the one for Pocahontas. Oh...Pocahontas)

2)I...have so many things for the internet to finish writing/to think about writing. The deadline for [livejournal.com profile] thingsunwritten is nigh, and I need to finish my story about two gladiators. I have a slew of tables and prompts to start, much less finish ([livejournal.com profile] thousandtables and [livejournal.com profile] ink_twist being the big two)--

And NaNoWriMo Cometh.

I've an idea, but I've never down well with NaNo on even numbered years. I think I have a good idea for it this year, but...*sigh*

Other than that, my life is unexciting.
Once again, PETA has missed the point.

Usually, the antics of PETA barely make a blip on the Nella Radar of worldly-going-ons. But as my brother has recently become a vegetarian, I've been getting snarky in regards to the bean and leafy greens set.

I am one of nature's omnivores in the broadest of senses--I'll eat ANYTHING, be it shit junk food or uber healthy vegan feed, because holy cow, I just love to eat. Meat? Boom baby! Tofu? Hell Yes. Vegetables? Load them on the plate. Fruits, nuts, and grains? Why hello there, delicious! Various fats and sugars that no man should put in their body? I'll regret it in the morning, and probably while I'm putting it in my mouth, but it's, er...part of the adventure?

Ok, so I've been trying to nix that last part out of my life--unsuccessfully--but the point is I would have been the crazy ass hunter gatherer who would have been looking at unidentified plant #637 and been thinking "Well, I saw a bird eat it once, and it didn't fall out of the sky right away."

But to the point. My brother has given up meat. And if he wasn't being so high and mighty obnoxious about it, I'd probably be happy for him. But as is my brother's want, he's gone and taking a perfectly reasonable lifestyle and make me want to bash him over the head with a frozen leg of lamb a la that Roald Dahl short story "Innocence of the Lamb" for it (GO READ IT NOW!! ONE DAY I WILL WRITE A STAGE ADAPTATION OF IT, AND IT WILL BE BETTER THAN HITCHCOCK'S!!!).

First off, he insists on repeating, over and over again, to us his family members that have to sit through this EVERY MEAL, that he finds meat "repulsive" and that he can't understand how anyone could stomach eating something that was "alive". And then he proceeds to complain about how he's tired of "Beans" and that my mother doesn't cook anything for him.

Ok, the repulsive I'll give him. I've move a rotten pig caress out of a blown up car in the dead heat of summer, meat IS repulsive, especially once the flies come. I get it. It turns your stomach. To each man his own, and mine is meaty, preferably fresh and grilled. However, since we've changed OUR diets to accommodate you--since you don't, you know, COOK FOR YOURSELF--how about you stop hating on the cooks, eh? We hear you every night. It gets old. Fast.

if you don't like mom's absolutely fabulous zucchini soup, how about YOU bust open a cook book and try to make something yourself? Christ, she's the one trying to at least make sure you're getting a balanced vegetarian diet, but you're the dumb ass who insists you don't need protein every day, and who still refuses to eat most of the vegetables she prepares. This woman has be jumping hoops for you since they brought you home, and as an 18 year old, you don't like what's cooking, MAN UP. Remember that story mom liked to tell, about how as a kid she hated lentil soup and refused to eat it, and grandma took her plate, dumped it over her head and sent her to bed without dinner? WHY we never did that to you while you were a child is beyond me. Who knows, as your older sister I may have to pick up the slack, do the world a favor and dump soup on your picky little head.

And in regards refusing to eat things that were "alive"--I've never seen my brother get more defensive and angry when I started pointing out (more like bullshitted, cause I don't think when I speak I just open my mouth and words come out) that that broccoli was once alive, growing to its full potential when it was cruelly plucked for our consumption, and that lemon, my GOD that LEMON had the potential to become a lemon TREE, but we denied it it's proper fate by using it to flavor our food, and that TOMATO, that tomato was the pride and joy of some--

At this point my brother punched me in the arm. And yes, I know comparing the harvesting of animals and plants is like comparing apples and oranges (OH WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE ORANGES!) but that's the problem with my brother. Every crusade he joins, every decision he makes he then uses to try and prove how better he is than my parents and myself. Like the time he decided all organized religion was inherently evil (we're catholic), or the time he was an anarchist (By God did I have fun ripping that apart!) I can respect honest belief and convictions. I can't abide holy-than-thou idiocy for the sake of holier-than-thou idiocy. And by God, if I wasn't put on this earth to knock my brother's ego down a few pegs, then there's just nothing left for me on this sweet green earth. At this point I'd post some pithy and appropriate Chesterton quote about vegetarians, but I'm at my public library, and all I can remember is a verse from one of his poems:

"You will find me drinking rum,
like a sailor in a slum,
you will find me drinking beer like a Baravian.
You will find me drinking gin
in the lowest sort of inn,
because I am at heart a vegetarian."

And to his wondering about how ANYONE could POSSIBLY eat meat--
Step One: Take the Meat. Step Two: place the meat in your mouth. Step Three: Chew completely. Step Four: Swallow. Step Five: Repeat.

Oddily enough, they are the same steps used in eating, well, anything! Fancy that.
Me: *sitting at the table, using teh internets and minding my own business*


Me: *has heard none of the above. Alice had nothing on me when it comes to A World of Her Own*

Brother: .........blah?

Me: *Bliss! Internet bliss!*

Brother: *eyes narrows*

Me: *Oblivious bliss!--wtf, is that a HAND creeping over my screen?!?!* Eh?

*Brother cackles as he pokes my keyboard and blocks my screen*


Brother: MWHAHAHA I in ur Fortress o' Solitood, killing ur doodz!!--

Me: *shakes fist!* CUUUUUUUURSE YOU LEX LUTHOR!!!!!


And to make this post not a total waste...Oh Justin. How I love thee. In Middle School I SCOFFED at such a thought, I KNOW! But now...*happy sigh!*

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December 2010

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