Debbie Downer Died – And My Baby Brother’s Driving

Wow, so looking over my last couple posts, I’m just a parade of happy thoughts, aren’t I?  Hello?  Hello?  Anybody there?  Geez!  Was it THAT bad?

My bad, Y’all.  No worries.  Debbie Downer died.

Liz is back!  (And 3 pounds lighter, I might add – feel free to send me a congratulatory Frappucino with extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce drizzled over it for about 3 seconds too long.)

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Big news:

Tomorrow my baby brother gets his driver’s license.

He’s almost allowed to be a completely independent person.  Almost.  His independence only lasts until 9 pm for the first 6 months.  I’m sure he’ll take what he can get.

Let me give you a little background on this kid:

  • He’s very resourceful.  He once dumped every bandaid in our house into a Power Rangers lunchbox and sat at the end of our driveway, flagging cars down to stop and buy one.  I believe he made about $30 that day.  For a 4 year-old kid, that’s a bag o’ loot.  Read: bandaids = gas money.
  • He’s resilient.  He has survived both my sister and I and our Mom.  Mom once strung a wooden coathanger through his shirt and hung him in the closet.  Indefinitely.  That was shortly followed up with a swirlie or two, courtesy of Big Sister and Bigger Sister.  And the upstairs toilet.  He took it like a man.  Like a man that screams like a little girl.
  • He’s witty.  That’s a given.  It’s in his genes.
  • He’s tough.  Does the term “ninja pirate” mean anything to you?
  • He’s stylish.  Well, sort of.  He can rock a Shawn White haircut, an Army T-shirt, a blinged-out Cadillac belt buckle, black and white checkered Converse and gold Aviator glasses all at the same time.  And still get girls.  Maybe “stylish” isn’t the word.  “Lucky” sounds better.
  • He’s charming.  According to him, every Sr. girl at ECU wants to make out with him.  He’s a smooth talker.  That’s how he gets the laydays!
  • He’s smart, that kid.  He learned every step to the Soulja Boi Superman Dance in, like,  minutes.  He can Superman that ho, yo!

He’ll be a great solo driver.  I can see it now.  In his Ford Ranger, window rolled down, Auburn hat on backwards, Aviator glasses reflecting the bling from his belt buckle, Soulja Boi in the background as he rolls to a slow stop next to a hottie on the sidewalk.  “Hey, there, Gorgeous?  Ever taken a ride with a DollarMenunairre?  No?  Well, then.  Want to buy a bandaid?”

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Liz's Eye 048

Happy Birthday, Little Brother.  I love you.  Oh, and please be careful.  Please.

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