Conversations With My Sister.
Sister: They're rubbish aren't they?
We are In The Pub. It is our second drink, the one that ensures that Everything Makes Sense. Unless you are drinking with my sister.
Me: What?
Sis: Blokes.
We have some chat as to whether or not this is a sweeping statement or a blanket statement. After some consultation (two drinks remember) we decide it is a Magic Carpet statement. Something about sweeping under carpets and something else. It made sense at the time. It always does.
Me: What do you mean?
Sis: Well. You know.
It occurs to me that as she is happy to have this tentative conversation with me, I must not qualify as a 'bloke'.
In my sister's eyes, I am 'non-male'.
I am unsure as to whether this is good or bad. My sister has lots of fit mates. Does she also tell them that I am non-male?
Sis: [Suddenly brandishing mobile phone] I just got a bit of wee on my leg when I went to the toilet.
Me: I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING SEE THAT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?
Sis: Keep your voice down. I've got a picture of the bridesmaid's dress I have to wear next week on my phone. I wouldn't take a picture of wee on my leg. Well. I would. But I wouldn't show it to you. You spastic.
Me: You can't say 'spastic'. It isn't funny anymore.
Sis: Yes it is.
Me: You've got me there.
I look at the picture.
Me: You actually look like a woman in that.
Sis: [As astonished as me] I know!
Me: Anyway.
Sis: Aye. Men. They're rubbish.
I have no great arguement. I spend three whole seconds thinking about all the great things men do, but they all centre around discovering the world is not flat and stuff. Things that do not ring true when you are talking to a woman.
Me: Ok.
Sis: I need a new challenge. A new game.
Me: Other than Men?
Sis: Aye.
Me: Honestly. You're worn out with the whole Men thing? You've done the lot?
Sis: Yeah.
I believe her.
Sis: They're just- You know. [I don't] So Easy. It's dead obviouse. They're really simple and boring. I get bored and then I break them.
We retire for a cigarette and I re-consider my Sister as we smoke.
Sis: What should I do?
Me: Well. You've discounted the male of our own species. Have you considered rattlesnakes?
Sis: [Suddenly resembling shit comic strip character 'Nemi' from rubbish Metro newspaper] Oooh.
There is some thought and some drinking.
Sis: Maybe that's setting my sights too high.
Me: What do you mean? In the whole 'come to me pretty snake, let me make you mine like I do all the boys OUCH oh you've BIT me and now I will DIE' way?
Sis: Yeah. Like that.
Me: Right.
Sis: Actually.
Me: What?
Sis: I need a shit.
We are In The Pub. It is our second drink, the one that ensures that Everything Makes Sense. Unless you are drinking with my sister.
Me: What?
Sis: Blokes.
We have some chat as to whether or not this is a sweeping statement or a blanket statement. After some consultation (two drinks remember) we decide it is a Magic Carpet statement. Something about sweeping under carpets and something else. It made sense at the time. It always does.
Me: What do you mean?
Sis: Well. You know.
It occurs to me that as she is happy to have this tentative conversation with me, I must not qualify as a 'bloke'.
In my sister's eyes, I am 'non-male'.
I am unsure as to whether this is good or bad. My sister has lots of fit mates. Does she also tell them that I am non-male?
Sis: [Suddenly brandishing mobile phone] I just got a bit of wee on my leg when I went to the toilet.
Me: I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING SEE THAT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?
Sis: Keep your voice down. I've got a picture of the bridesmaid's dress I have to wear next week on my phone. I wouldn't take a picture of wee on my leg. Well. I would. But I wouldn't show it to you. You spastic.
Me: You can't say 'spastic'. It isn't funny anymore.
Sis: Yes it is.
Me: You've got me there.
I look at the picture.
Me: You actually look like a woman in that.
Sis: [As astonished as me] I know!
Me: Anyway.
Sis: Aye. Men. They're rubbish.
I have no great arguement. I spend three whole seconds thinking about all the great things men do, but they all centre around discovering the world is not flat and stuff. Things that do not ring true when you are talking to a woman.
Me: Ok.
Sis: I need a new challenge. A new game.
Me: Other than Men?
Sis: Aye.
Me: Honestly. You're worn out with the whole Men thing? You've done the lot?
Sis: Yeah.
I believe her.
Sis: They're just- You know. [I don't] So Easy. It's dead obviouse. They're really simple and boring. I get bored and then I break them.
We retire for a cigarette and I re-consider my Sister as we smoke.
Sis: What should I do?
Me: Well. You've discounted the male of our own species. Have you considered rattlesnakes?
Sis: [Suddenly resembling shit comic strip character 'Nemi' from rubbish Metro newspaper] Oooh.
There is some thought and some drinking.
Sis: Maybe that's setting my sights too high.
Me: What do you mean? In the whole 'come to me pretty snake, let me make you mine like I do all the boys OUCH oh you've BIT me and now I will DIE' way?
Sis: Yeah. Like that.
Me: Right.
Sis: Actually.
Me: What?
Sis: I need a shit.
posted by Tired Dad at
9:34 pm
20 Comments:
It's true.
Spastic is still funny. Implies action.
This comment has been removed by the author.
r u 2 jsut tha same then?
I'd love to hear the conversations between your sister and your daughter!
I'm considering the same path as your sister.
Men?
Pfft!
You are a spastic genius. Fact.
Ooh look at that, we're both in the same place in cyberspace, although many miles and several time zones apart in the real world.
She's right, of course. The only complaint I have is that you just don't do this often enough. Have you considered daily appearances on t'internet? It would cheer me up enormously.
Franki: Welcome. I suppose.
Deleted Person: Ok.
Pup: I never wee on my leg, 'break' men or announce my need to exacuate my bowels.
Oh. I see. Inappropriate things said without thinking.
Suppose so.
Clarissa: Don't. Because I have to listen to them. And it's FUCKING TERRIFYING. They are the same person.
Enough: Welcome. I wouldn't get bored so quickly were I you. There are some out there that you can't break, no matter how bored you get.
NWM: Well. Hello. Oh bugger, I was going to be all shirty but haven't the heart. Many thanks, welcome back to my shit blog. Now fuck off. No. Not really. Thanks again. Sadly the genius is all my sister's. I've just a very good memory.
MM: Ok. Too weird. Hello my second favourite reader.
As has been explained by recent 'hard-drive' (this is not youth slang) related problems, all the mildly intersting things that have occurred to me in the past six months have vanished.
BUT!
I have notes on the back of a bus ticket!
Hang on for:
'You cunts'
'Seriously. Just die'
'Danger Wank'
'Random Cunt Encounter'
All coming soon the minute I remember what any of them mean.
Second favourite reader? Thanks! Almost as good on the cv as being thrown out of the Brownies.
Come now young man, even I understand 'hard -drive' problems and I seem to remember you had several excellent pieces of advice as to how to remedy them, so do something.
As I am not yet old enough for a bus pass, I know how small a bus ticket is, so am a little concerned.
I find it difficult to believe your sister is a real person on the evidence of this chat. Surreal, maybe. But not real.
MM: ARRIVA buses print off a ticket that resembles the Magna Carta.
The contents of the old hard drive have now entered the Witness Protection Program and are untraceable.
M_G: Sadly, this was pretty much verbatum. The only editing I have done is too remove the bits no-one would believe.
i would take it as a compliment that your sister sees you as something else than a bloke, especially as they're rubbish (and you're not).
Stop flirting with my mother, you pervert.
Don't be bitter. You had your chance.
Me: Thanks.
Her mother??? You into MILF's then?
I like your sister. Probably from a safe distance but I like her.
Dinners: A safe distance would be wise.
What is it with babes and toilets? You're chatting to her on the phone and she suddenly needs to pee, loudly. You're taking a shower and she needs a dump, which smells despite her denials. You're driving home after a cracking night and she treats your car as a toilet for her vomit.....
And that's the difference. Babes can be rubbish too but blokes don't mind!
Toby: Welcome back. You truly are a renaissance man.
LMAO @ "i get bored and then i break them"...sounds like your sister & i aer kindred spirits!
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