Um...er…eerr...
Give me a second, it’ll come back to me.
My brother Ted invited her to the U.S. for the week because he was feeling a little blue about the finality of his Christmas dump fest. He and the woman became friends years ago during his pre-college stint in Europe—which, incidentally, my parents funded, along with a welcome-home Nissan Pathfinder, rent expenses and tuition for golf school.
Know what my parents funded for me? One-third the cost of a piece of shit, rusty Subaru, circa 1972. One-third! It couldn't make it up hills!
Wait, where was I? Ah yes. Catherine. The British chick’s name was Catherine.
Ted invited her to the good ole US of A so he could get to know her better (i.e., see if he wanted to have sex with her). Why he couldn’t have met someone at a bar and come to a similar conclusion is beyond me. Then again, I'm the kind of person who settled for a Subaru with a hatchback that didn't close all the way. Of course I'd think parochially.
(Bitter? Me?)
By day four, Ted decided that no, he didn’t want to schtoop Catherine. According to him, she talked too much, and interpersonal relations were like “humping a cardboard box.” So sweet. He also decided that he didn't feel like taking her on the whirlwind tour of New England he’d promised, so he brought her to our house.
Because nothing screams “I’ve seen America” like boarding with a tired married couple, a train-on-the-brain toddler and two obese cats in Mulletville.
Poor, poor girl.
Amazingly, she made the best of it. While my brother slept
she oohed and ahhed over Junior’s Thomas the Train collection (she’s British, she loves that stupid train), watched every trash TV show she could find (Kendra, Housewives of Orange County and Jersey Shore) and asked if she could take a “proper” shower (which I learned involves washing your hair).
She also ate like a horse. In two days we ordered pizza and Chinese three times and made multiple runs to Krispy Kreme. She couldn’t get enough donuts. She ate six in one sitting. An hour later, she was torn about being too full to try the six assorted donuts left in the box, so she took a bite of each one.
The crazy part is that it all went to her boobs. All weekend she wore a tight black t-shirt with pink hearts on each breast; by the time she left, the hearts were the size of footballs. Chuck was like a giddy school girl. Even I couldn’t stop staring.
And Junior? Junior was in love.
Within five minutes of meeting her, he'd invited her up to his bedroom to see his Thomas the Train bed. By Sunday, she’d seen it 12 times and he was calling her his “big girl friend.”
I was a little sad when she left. Could she be our British nanny? Could she forgive us for the fop that is my brother? I mean, what the hell, Ted? You bring your British fling to our house, and we’d all bonk her. Can't you take one for the team?
I can’t keep going on like this. When do I get to ride in a Nissan Pathfinder?
21 comments:
She definitely sounds like Nanny Material! His loss is definitely YOUR gain.
Do you get to keep her? I mean, you got your brother's last leftovers, right?
Poor girl.
Keep her. Maybe her and his other ex will get along in this super cool lesbian relationship and you can be responsible for bringing them together...even if it is for your own benefit.
And Charlie Sheen doesn't quite have the appeal that he used to.
I went to Day out with Thomas today (with a sick, grumpy 2.5 year old.) So who REALLY had the worse weekend, I ask you?
OMG, you are too effing funny!! At least her trip wasn't a total waste. Sounds like she was hot. I'd do her too.
Very Good! Is there really a place called Mulletville! Your Brit friend sounds interesting. We as a nation are tiny at the side of most Yanks!
Mad Woman, you're genius. I'll suggest that to them.
And why isn't anyone saying "Poor Mrs. Mullet??" I wanted to be the favorite...I never got anything!
Wah.
your brother has issues. and how awesome would it be to have instaboobs. the things you could get away with, really.
Ohh, poor you. How come the boys always get the money and attention from the folks. I did most of my living expenses on my own from the time I moved out oft he dorms. I got rent money until I graduated from college. If I wanted to eat, talk on the phone, drive, watch TV, I had to earn the money for it but my brother can still ask for money and my mom sends it to him. Any amount. Drives me nuts. THe subaru made me laugh. Hard not to be resentful about the pathfinder, especially when he won't even take one for the team.
Dude, I inherited an '80 Datsun in '93, I feel your pain. Big Brother went to Russia, I went to the Poconos. Yeah, I feel you. Now where are the boob pictures? Because if you are going to decorate them with hearts you are asking to have them photographed for blog material.
Golf school? Really?
There's always such adventure on your blog!
I think your brother needs a good butt from a big goat.
Really funny stuff. I can't imagine why he wouldn't just give her some courtesy lovin. She flew all the way across the pond. He is just selfish.
Almost forgot..Poor Mrs. Mullet!
He's such a girl, sleeping with his phone in his hand. ;D
She sounds fun!
I really would like to know how she gets the 'instant' boobs thing to work. I would eat all day too if that was the end result. Sigh, my butt would like to know her secret too.
I guess it's some kind of British secret...
I love this. I wish I could write so candid and open about my dumb ass brother. And the British. And Krispy Kremes.
I've often thought of becoming a lesbian, especially with a woman in a black t-shirt with booby hearts. Awesome.
Oh, and by the way, how in hell's name does your brother sleep in that position????
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