To My Dearest Sibling,
Some of you know my sister, Stephanie, at least, some of you think you know my sister Stephanie. I don’t have her on my Facebook account because well, she starts a lot of problems. Actually, truth be told, I’ve been having a pretty content and quit day and even agreed to babysit early tomorrow so she could go out with her boyfriend. I didn’t know we were apparently arguing.
Until I was just sent this screen cap of her Facebook page and asked what I did. Stephanie really wants to know who sent me this message, but being the quite and content person I was, I just told her, “I wasn’t aware I made you angry,” “It doesn’t matter who sent me this,” in my most calming of voices, because honestly, I just didn’t want any part of this.
Unfortunately, being the one who’s always “enabled to be a lazy BUM,” Stephanie wouldn’t take my advice to just forget about it, and even my subtle apology. Even after I discovered that the reason she was so angry is because mom made a comment that I in fact, DID NOT say, involving doing choirs. But back to the enabling…
Because I wouldn’t enable her, she began to call me worse and worse words. I kept walking away from her, but then she planted herself in my room. So I sat there, feeding my nephew and eating my pizza in my room, and since that wasn’t satisfying herself enough, she the called me a “f**got.”
Now, there’s not really any word that offends me, other than that one. And she knows it. So I finally lost my cool when she told my nephew, “It’s okay to call your uncle Brandon a f**got”. Yeah, ladies, has your jaws dropped to the floor yet? She told a three year old to call me “F**got Uncle Brandon.” True story. And when one or two of you confront her about this, c’mon, I mean, I KNOW you’re going to, be sure you leave your name in the box below so I can finally weed you out of my life and tell you what I really think of you too.
Also, to note, according to my sister, I don’t actually work in Electronics, automotive, sporting goods, infant hardlines and rear seasonal at Target. I only work toys and I make the rest of that up. Okay. And my average 26-33 hours a week compared to her unemployed, literally, laying on the couch ALL DAMN DAY self.
I know what you’re all saying, “Brandon! She’s pregnant for a second time by a different guy, and under the age of 23, of course she’s laying around. Pregnancy makes you many things.” And I would agree with you naturally, but I say “NAY!” She’s been laying around on the couch ALL DAMN DAY for the past year and a half, except for when she was working.
Well, I guess that’s all I have to say. I have to go get ready to go to work with my over worked legs and nearly fractured foot, and NOT work in about seven departments by myself and help close the store down.
Hmmm. And I guess all of a sudden, I’m not babysitting tomorrow either. Think of the possibilities.