Settling

I was going to make my First Official Post of a New Era about, I guess, my whole entire life, beginning with my tragically beautiful birth and ending with my beautifully tragic current state. (Wicked? Anyone?)

But that plan fell through the moment I got distracted by beautiful, beautiful gluten free cookies and my brother being generally a distracting asshole, and my need for whistling, and Seinfeld ABSOLUTELY BLASTING out of my tv screen.

So that plan's dead.

I've pulled another all-nighter and, as per usual, my make up is flawless and my hair is only slightly disgruntled (including the fake but still pretty white flower attached to the elastic of my ponytail), and from the neck down I pretty much look homeless.

It's something of a lone standing tradition that any all-nighters of mine end in the careful application of Just The Right amount of makeup to disguise the genuinely horrific state of My Face and a complete disregard for anything from the neck down.

My "attire" is currently being consumed by a blanket, actually.

This blanket has seen much horror.

For example, my little brother, currently at the startlingly awful age of 12 (as compared to my slightly less awful age of 15), managed to wrestle it out of my grips for a frighteningly cold 3 minutes and wear it himself.

Luckily I am well in-tune with the Art of War. I know my enemy, children. And I knew my enemy had to pee.

I swooped down while he was in the bathroom, gripped the blanket tight, and raised its soul from perdition. (Supernatural? Anyone?)

Unfortunately, this resulted in what I am currently calling a Test of My Own Ability to Contain And Curtail My Desire to Rip Limbs Off of My Younger Brother's Still-Breathing Body. What happens during this festival is that Matteo spends an (ongoing) 30 minutes circling the table I am sat at like a vulture, repeating phrases such as "can I have the blanket" and "can I please have the blanket" over and over with barely a breath in between. Occasionally he turns to the iPad and sets an automated voice to screech "can he have the blanket" in the hopes that he can annoy me into submission.

Honestly, it's not the worst he's ever done.
And that's kind of terrifying.

Currently, he's got the automatic censor app on the iPad going. It's essentially blaring a steady stream of "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep" into my ear. You know, the censor beep. Like in movies. This has been going for I suppose around 10 minutes. We've only actually seen 20 minutes of the torture that currently lasts 30. I'm good. Still good.

Oh! What's this?! A surprising new development! He's gotten out his bo. Boe? The pokey stick from his karate lessons.

This:



This is slightly more annoying.

24 minutes in. It'll be over soon.

He won't stop poking my face. But I will not give in.

And now he's trying to lift it off me with it. Like so!

I know my enemy. I will not give in.

27 minutes.

< excuse my derp










I have the sudden feeling that this is going to last far past 30 minutes.

28.
-
31.

He has resorted to playing some scenes from Dumb&Dumber on the iPad. And I am singing along to Jesus of Suburbia. I dunno man, I'm kind of enjoying this.

Dearly beloved are you listening?
I can't remember a word that you were saying
Are we demented or am I disturbed?
The space that's in between insane and insecure
Oh therapy, can you please fill the void?
Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed
Nobody's perfect and I stand accused
For lack of a better word, and that's my best excuse

Damn straight. 

40 minutes. 

43 minutes. 


I think I'll end this here.