I've got a knack for it, i guess

So i'm very good at making people uncomfortable, especially when i'm not trying or don't think about it. Today was a perfect example.

At the day care i cook at, we have a cart in the hallway where we leave free stuff for the families. It's usually full of toys and hygene stuff and food and clothes and the like. Today as i was walking past, i noticed a box that read METAL TRUCKS & CARS. It was full of vintage Tonka trucks, cars, tractors, and this weird "futuristic" vehicle thingy. I was going through it and thinking how much my brother Michael would have dug the stuff. My boss walked by and i said, "Man, my brother would LOVE this stuff." And she said, "Take 'em to him." To which i replied, as i dropped the future thing back in the box and walked away, "He's dead." I got about 10 steps down the hall before i realized how nonchalant and actually shitty that was. I turned around to say something else and she was standing there staring at me with her jaw on the floor. She was looking at me like i was a monster, a monster to pity, perhaps, but a monster nonetheless. All i could think of to say at that point was, "Or else i totally would." I mean, he IS dead and it sucks really hard but being sad and tip-toeing around the subject hasn't changed that in nearly 15 years, so why bother. If i get all Sad Manda about it people try to comfort me and that makes it worse. I'm not going for sympathy when i inform people that he died. I feel like it's best to be straight forward about the whole thing so no one tries to make me feel better because NEWSFLASH - you can never feel better about your brother being dead. It sucks forever, the end.

I think tomorrow i'll grab the coolest truck and put it on his grave.

What is Loved is Never Lost OR: Full of Sound & Fury

I'm overwhelmed right now. There's a lot going on. I'm not weak or shallow or blind - this is heavy shit happening with and to both my family and me. I'm trying to be a bad ass but, damn! it's for real. So, i need to get a little nostalgic. It will do me good to remember some stuff.

Reester Seester designed this. It has been made into a shirt for who ever wants to to wear it to the annual party held in my brother Michael's memory. Mine is purple and i am so excited to wear it. Let me explain ~

Michael was a life-long dirty birdy. He always included swears in his vernacular from the time i can remember him speaking. The first Easter i can remember involves his vulgarity, even if i didn't know it at the time. Allow a transcript:

Momster: Go upstairs and get Mike. It's time for this Easter stuff.
Me (after plodding up the steps in my footsies, at the tender age of 5, and barging in to 13 year-old Mike's room): Mikey! Mom said come downstairs. We got Easter bunny baskets!
Mike: Go away! I'm playing with myself.
Me: Okay.

I plod back down and relay the message:
Me (to Momster): He's playing with himself.

I was all nonchalant, just telling her what he told me. She went bananas! Storming up the stairs and then yelling at him. I thought it was my fault. Nope. That's on him.

Once when i was in kindergarten, Michael, his twin sister Silly, and I were waiting at the end of driveway for the bus. Silly asked Mike why he kept digging in his pocket. To which he replied, "I cut out the bottom of my pocket so I can play with my balls." Silly said he was sick but I just wanted to know what kind of balls. Did they bounce? Could I see them? He just laughed and laughed. I thought about his stupid balls all the way to school.

He was also the King of Gross. He was always burping and blowing the smell at someone's face or holding someone down and doing yo-yo loogie or farting in their ear. He used to hack up big meaty lugers and cup his tongue like a bowl and let little Samantha, Reester Seester's dog, LICK IT OUT OF HIS MOUTH! I am totally fucking serious. Still holds the title for grossest dude I've ever known.

Anyway, the shirt design. Mike was insanely disgusting and always hilarious. The design up there is a foot with toes spread out, see? That's how you could get him. He wasn't a fan of feet in the first place but you could take off your sock, hold up your foot and spread those little piggies out and he would actually retch a little. If you were near him, he might even scream a little and flail around like a maniac trying to get away. That was awesome.

Miss you, Pickle