Overdue Apologies (Part II)

To my brother Louie:

Please understand: sometimes, when they are five, older siblings just need to experiment with how far they can stretch their power. It does not reflect how much love or respect they may have for their younger siblings. It is purely a matter of wanting to see how their cunning and brute strength compares.

Admittedly, sometimes older siblings are already well aware of how much more powerful they are. Further exercising of said power, especially over a three-year old, is just mean.

I am sure you recall the tale of The Blame And The Bath Water, in which I totally sold you out to mom for having dumped a huge cup of gross, tepid bath water on the already mildew-ridden bathroom floor.

You were just sitting there in the bathtub, finishing up whatever war you'd set up between different factions of Happy Meal toys, and I was standing with my back to the space heater in my towel, shivering. A lot of that evening is a blur of guilt, but I do remember that you looked happy playing in the water, lips blue, curly hair wet and disheveled. So happy, in fact, that I had to ruin it.

"Louie," I most likely said. "Fill that cup up with water and dump it on the floor." I was smooth, sly, convincing. You were naive, happy-go-lucky, easily convinced. You trusted me, your older sister, to teach you to do cool stuff and to invite you to partake only in safe activities. After all, I had taught you how to put on killer performances in the living room. I had taught you how to chew great wads of Big League Chew so you could look like an incredibly manly, nicotine-addicted baseball player with your friends. I had taught you how to expertly skip from couch cushion to couch cushion, avoiding crocodiles, quick sand, lava, and other hazards. So why should you be suspicious of this new activity?

You happily grabbed the cup floating next to you, scooped up some gray water, and brought it to the edge of the tub. "Come on. Do it," I urged. So you did.

The next thing I did was go to the door and yell, "MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!! LOUIE DUMPED WATER ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!!!!!!!!!"

Mom came running up, and scolded you. I'm sure it wasn't a severe scolding, but right now I am remembering it as though she screamed at you for hours. I do remember you trying to explain what had happened. "Lizzy said to! Lizzy said to!" but I somehow managed to beat the system and get off totally unscolded, smugly smiling all the while.

So, Louie. I am sorry. For the bathwater incident, and for any other time I manipulated you into doing my bidding. And while I know all those wrestling lessons I gave you on the front lawn can never make up fully for all the times I was crappy to you, I certainly hope they help.

So Cute I Could Puke

Ask yourself:
Am I a middle-aged single lady that enjoys pictures of kittens?

If you answered yes, have I got a website for you!!


This website makes me feel like I should be wearing a cable-knit sweater featuring a bear holding a pink balloon.

I'm serious.

I laughed, I cried, I wasted an hour...

Visit http://www.onesentence.org/ for some simple true stories, told in one sentence.

Scatology 101

Because the guy who used to live in my apartment didn't have his mail properly forwarded, I get the best mis-delivered mail in the world. Aside from catalogs for places that sell only Christmas-themed gourd art, he also gets a Doctor's Alert newsletter. Each installment is designed to sell you an herbal product that will remedy some ailment you didn't even know you had that could totally kill you. Last month it was "You Have Up To Eight Cups of Mucus In Your Nasal Cavity That Is Breeding Bacteria And Trying To Kill You And Leave Your Children Fatherless" brochure. I'm not actually kidding about that, either. They're that serious about your nostril health.
But this time around it was the Doctor's Digestive Health Alert which immediately boasted:
Intrigued, I flipped it over and was delighted by the following:
So, naturally, I committed a felony. I opened that sucker up and turned to page 3. Good thing, too! Because I learned a lot! For instance did you know that...
...? I sure didn't! Look how forlorn this gentleman looks, trying in vain to have an early morning crap, his pajamas surely becoming damp from the sweat and tears brought on by this intense challenge.



Also, they're racist:

The newsletter doesn't even try to make this a kind, gentle warning about the difficulties you could encounter if you continue not to use their product. There are frightening statements like "If your poop is thin and twisted or round and hard, you could have a narrow clogged colon that's strained to a bursting point!" The bursting part isn't what scares me. It's the word "poop," being used in an advertisement that is trying to look like a real science journal.

Things that also shouldn't be used in a faux-medical journal include phrases such as "helps flush away hidden gunk SO YOU CAN POOP IN SECONDS!" and testimonials with nebulous syntax that leave you confused and upset, like:Now, we can agree that a miracle is in general a good thing. But are we to believe that Agnes obtained relief with this product after twenty years of inconvenience and found it to be miraculous? Or is the miracle that the gastric ailment spanned two delightful decades? If we are to believe the former, did Ms. Pettipaw think to consult a physician during this time at all? Or was she just content to be a slave to the toilet until the right homeopathic cure came along?

Lastly, I object to this photo:
because a pamphlet about poop is no place for a ham sandwich.

Dear Gene Taylor,

Thank you for always offering me advice. For always listening to me. For always encouraging me musically.
Thank you for being a great friend.
And thank you, THANK YOU, for sending me THIS.

GlaxoSmithKline: "Just Trust Us."