Peeves...we all got em...

Brother dearest:

I can write this here since you don't read this blog...my secret blog! I admire your New Black Shiny Corvette, but I don't covet it. I love my old Red Paid For Ford...I call it my Paid Ford. It suits me just fine. I almost need a ladder to mount into the driver's seat, but here in Texas, where all the back roads are bumpy, it suits me just fine. I didn't appreciate your sarcasm when I didn't sit my behind properly into your New Black Shiny Corvette Leather seat. Your precise instructions "turn, put your butt in first and then turn and put your feet in", may work quite well when you are 5'7" wearing tennis shoes and have had a lot of practice squatting down to six inches from Terra Firma...but for your dear old sis...two years your senior...wearing stylish 4 inch heeled boots, tighter than this jeans, and haven't performed a squat that low since I was catcher on my baseball team...getting into your NEW Black Shiny Corvette was a feat reminiscent of playing an insane game of Twister...in fact you can now call me TWISTED SISTA!
Your precise instructions also did not take into account that said New Black Shiny Corvette was parked in the MUD....since we don't have a concrete driveway leading to our house off the dirt road. In order to follow your precise seating instructions I would have to either A) plant my 4 inch heels in the mud and swivel driving the heels in deeper than an auger or B) attempt to balance on my toes, swivel, and plant my ass .... well at this point I would most likely be wiping mud off my favorite pair of $60 Patrol Jeans....and that isn't happening in Sista's world! So yes...I led the way into the car with my long long long legs (much longer than the stubs you stand on) with my sexy black 4 inch heeled boots practically doing the splits in the mud, and still managed to look sexy as hell....and ..... guess what .... I was actually able to get in and sit even without following your instructions. Guess getting that nursing degree and learning critical thinking is working out quite well for me isn't it. Oh, and I love you to death, but if I hear one more time about how important your job is , how important you are, and how everything is top secret and if you tell me you'd have to kill me (well basically that's what you're saying right?), I just may have to shoot ya myself instead of just rolling my eyes. I'm sure you don't want to hear the gory details of my regular day (G.I. bleeders, nausea and vomiters, code brown's, and other gross stuff) and your job is oh so much more interesting (the red wire goes here...zap...green wire here....zap....black wire here...zap...white wire here...zap...yellow wire...et nauseam...). I would so suck at your job...schematics ....color codes....numbers....and you, oh I know you would so suck at mine. So today, when you are washing the country mud off your city car....just know that in spite of yourself...I truly love my baby brother even if he could be a controlling ass at times. I've still been married more times than you bro, so if nothing else I've proven myself better at picking losers than you...if that's a contest!