Momma Says: Who IS this man?! I, Too, Have No Idea

Within six months, my brother went from

living alone in a shoebox struggling for work, wondering what to do with himself between sporadic stints at an ailing business, going so far as to solicit himself to complete strangers, including knocking on doors to sell himself to prostitution (okay that last part is a lie), to

getting spontaneously engaged, married 37 days later, interviewing for and scoring a new job in six days, working 115-hour weeks, barely having enough time to sleep let alone eat, wondering how his life has changed simultaneously so awesomely and so rapidly, and then, the piece de resistance: getting a HOUSE so he can FINALLY move his family here after MONTHS of working his patootie off.  (NONE of this part is a lie.)

But, you must know this is not just any house.  This house has a (really big) yard.  And a garage.  And an island in the kitchen, the size of a real island.  And a chicken coop.  And chickens!  Well, not yet, but there will be.  This house is a grown up house.  This can only mean my brother is a grown up.

Or, he is an alien inhabiting my brother's body and masquerading as a very convincing grown up.

Either way, there is still a house involved where I get to go on Saturday mornings and drink coffee, eat breakfast, and shoot the proverbial shizite.

So the house is basically the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen, aside from a few other things: Fort Youngstown (of course), my freshly-birthed nephew, and Jesus coming down from the clouds on a particularly mystical summer day last year.  Well, it felt like Jesus, but it could've been someone else I suppose.

Brother and I went out to la Casa de Byrom on Saturday where he signed papers and picked up the keys.  Then the two of us, unable to peel our jaws from the floor or wipe the look of pure childlike elation from our faces, spent the afternoon running between all the rooms, figuring out precisely how many jokes we could make about his "big deck," drinking coffee, planning a wedding party, and taking photos of every conceivable crook and nanny.

Thus, what follows: a [virtual] tour of the [gigantic] abode.

Front door

WOMP.  Living room/entry way

Kitchen

(Brother really liked the kitchen.)

Dining room, to the deck

"So, how big is your deck?"

"Big decks are the only kind of decks."

"A friend of mine has a small deck, but it just doesn't get the job done."

(He really liked the deck, too.)

Come to think of it, he really liked

the master bedroom

the huge living area with fancy heater fireplace

the dining room with french doors

and the hallway.

Brother also especially adored

the Grey Room

the Yellow Room

the two-car garage

and the backyard.

Needless to say, the jacuzzi tub

Dish washer

Stackable laundry

 

and chicken coop are all just icing on the cake.  

The enormous, enormous cake.

HOORAH!

Friday Night Clarity

I got home from my massage in a calm sloppy state that only a massage from Missy can induce.  In the least lesbian sense of the word I can muster, she is a freakin’ goddess.  I started to wonder why her massages started to feel so short lately, thinking that she might actually be jipping me on time.  I found out it’s because I keep falling asleep.  Everything feels short when you’re sleeping through it.  Once I discovered this I felt better but a little mad that I was missing the sensuous deliciousness of the experience.  Regardless, the noodly feeling ensued.

I started making a spinach salad with avocado and chickpeas and bell pepper and a sour cream dressing and wondered how to keep myself awake for a few hours after such a massage when my brother started requesting things from me in text messages.

Brother:  Aightnegroholla:  1) I need an obscure Wayne’s World quote to school Tara Mitchell and  2) the fuck the plan is for breakfast?

(I should note that many a conversation with my oldest brother are entirely executed in movie quotes.  Rather than remembering birthdays or recipes or valuable things like how to calculate a tip or what to do in the event of a grease fire, my brain stores lines from all the movies I’ve ever seen.  Not kidding.  My brother shares this special gift.  It’s like our own language and while many appreciate the idea, it is sometimes difficult to follow.)

Me:  If Benjamin were an ice cream flavor … Hey are you done yet ’cause I’m getting tired of holding this … Actually it’s pronounced mil ee wauk ay, which is Algonquin for ‘the good land.’ … You kiss your mother with that mouth? …. Whyyy God, whyyyy?

Me:  Fah q and your breakfast.  What you wanna do for breakfast?

Me:  Ah, Neuprin: Little. Yellow. Different.

Me:  I’m giving you a No-Honk Guarantee.

………

Brother:  Have you been drinking?

Me:  If I say no, you won’t believe me.  But the answer really is no.

Me:  Have you been drinking?  No!  I’m just THAT funny

Me:  Have you been drinking?  No, but I’m about to!

Me:  I have lots of answers.

Brother:  No contest!  My phones just glowing with the heat of your self-satisfaction.  Tara stands no chance!

Brother:  What about bfast huh?

Me:  I think breakfast should be ordered and eaten.  When and where is the challenge. 

It was at this point that I poured myself a very large cold glass of something pink and alcoholic and ate the salad that turned out to be less a success than I’d anticipated.  I think the spinach wasn’t very fresh the chickpeas tasted like tin can.

I sat for a minute and thought about heady things and what a valuable ability it is to be able to make oneself laugh.  Even in solitude, one may find hilarity.

May the guffaws cut through the steady electronic dance beats of Friday nights alone with wine and chopped vegetables!

Tupperware Does Not Grow on Trees

Brother:  All of my tupperware is in the sink waiting to be washed.  I can’t bring myself to just do it, just wash the stuff.  It’s been there for weeks.

Me:  Wait, this is the same tupperware you were complaining about a couple Saturdays ago?

Brother:  Yeah.

Me:  Gross.

Brother:  And, because I don’t have a single piece of it clean, then I have nothing to put leftovers in.

Me:  Use foil.

Brother:  I don’t have any foil.  And since I have nothing to put leftovers in, then I’ve stopped cooking.  But I still need to feed myself so I started eating out all the time.  And because I’m eating out all the time I’m destroying my money situation.

Me:  This sounds pretty catastrophic.

Brother:  Do you see?  Do you see how not doing my dishes is destroying my entire LIFE??

Me:  So go do them.

Brother:  Uggggghhh.  I just can’t be bothered.

Monday Wisdom

Brother:  My use of 'fuck' is not akin to the dropping of bombs, but the firing of missiles.

On Aging Gracefully

Brother:  November is over already.

Me:  Where did the year even go?

Brother:  Shit, I turned 31 this year.  It's all downhill from here, you know.

Me:  Your life is over.

Brother:  Yeah it is.

Brother:  . . .

Brother:  I'm halfway to 62.

Me:  It sounds old when you say it like that.

Brother:  You're halfway to 52.

Me:  Oh god . . . Stop it.

Brother:  And our brother is --

. . .

Me:  Our brother is halfway to fucked.

Word of the Day: The Letter "B"

Brother:  Want to hear my four favorite things in the world in alphabetical order that start with the letter "B?"

Me:  Sure.

Brother:  Beer   ...Shit I fucked it up already.

Brother:  Barbecue     Beer     Boobs     Byroms

Me:  Awww.

Brother:  And when all those things happen simultaneously?

Me:  ........

Me:  It's a Life-gasm?

Brother:  It's a LIFE-GASM!!!!!

Apple Tasting at Portland Nursery

The Apple Tasting Festival might be my favorite event in the city.  The Greek Food Festival comes in a close second.  I think because it’s simple and wholesome, and the tasting itself is free YAY.  I paddied up the Boy and the Brother, got them loopy off the hard cider tasting, and the day took us away!

Art Sesh with Brother 10.18.11

I scheduled an Art session with Brother last week.  I don’t recall that’s something I’ve ever done.  Nevertheless, it turned out to be productive and (duh) raucous.

Not that I have any particular affinity for Chuck Klosterman — never having read any of his writings (he’s a writer, right?) — I just happen to like his face.

And I have since bought some better paper.  This stuff is shit.

I Think My Brother Forgot

he has loyal blog fans who have been waiting for weeks.

And since the regularly transmitted telepathic messages have apparently not been getting through, then I shall try the wide open flowing tubes of the interwebs.

...

..

.

Unless they get clogged, of course.

Cross your fingers.

On Religion

Brother 2:  So what's the address of your YouTube P90X videos?

Brother 1:  Doubleya doubleya doubleya dot ive beaten myself to shit and feel like FUCK dot com.

Brother 2:  I've been there before.  It's a Catholic website, no?

On Mars

Me:  I don't have a very favorable Mars position in my chart.

Brother:  Yeah, you'd be a lot better off if your Mars was in the position mine is.

Me:  Where is your Mars?

Brother:  In my cock.

On Aging

Brother 2:  Oh, and your nephew is 2 weeks old, TODAY.

Brother 1:  He won't be two weeks old until 14:10.  Nigger.

Brother 2:  Ya, I totally said 'birthday' not 'birthtime.'  Cracker.

Me:  Idea: I record the funny things mom says, she records the funny things you say, you record the funny things I say and then we all write blogs about it.

Red:  Gene. YUS.

The Grand MoMare Adventure

         A (painfully)  

Short Story

<ahem>

She arrived.

We ate heartily

nom

and drank (very dramatic) cups of coffee.

We lazed about and chit-chatted

 boop

and sat on sidewalks drinking tea

and swilling beer.

 We got to peruse many a-menu

 because that's what happens

when you eat a lot and are daunted

by giant flatware.

 RAWWRRR

We had fantastic hair

and gesticulated wildly

and made funny faces in public places

  until we nearly peed from laughter.

And even though we felt exhausted at times

oy

that didn't stop us from admiring the flowers

 I think those are weeds

eating radishes the size of baseballs

womp

and flaunting our fantastic bosoms.

yowza

The End.