Sisters Say the Darndest Things: Vol. 2

My sister says the darndest things. And she's a creeper.

A while back, my family was sitting around a table at the Horseshoe Cafe in Franklin, America, eating our yummy lunch and poking fun at one another.

The target this particular day was my sister, and she was an easy target because at this point in her life, she didn't have Internet or cable. Or more than two local channels that actually worked.

So, as usual, I was making fun of her.

"How the heck do you even know what's going on in the world?"

"I don't," she tells me in her matter-of-fact tone. "Hell, I didn't even know the cost of stamps had gone up!"

"Seriously?" We're all laughing pretty hard at this point.

"Oh, you think that's funny?" she yells back at me, laughing. "Try having ALL your mail returned!"

Poor Kendra. Two cents short. So her mail was returned. And by mail, I mean bills.

Fast forward to last week. Brady and I meet Mom, Kendra, Pryce and Teagan at Ozona to celebrate us finally knowing we're having a little girl.

How do I know Kendra's son is just like his momma? Because he says the darndest things too.

So, again, we're poking fun at Kendra. I really don't know why. But I say to her, "Whatever, your mom goes to college." And, I look over and smile lovingly at my mom, who is there. And, listening to all this.

And, Pryce, in his infinite 2-year-old wisdom, looks right at me and Brady and says very clearly, "No, my daddy goes to college."

Maybe it was only funny to us because we think Pryce hung the moon. Or maybe it was funny to us because Pryce was smart enough to come up with that comment. Or maybe it was funny to us because in his Uncle Brady's eyes, he has years to teach Pryce funny comments and your-momma jokes.

Or maybe, just maybe, it made me see that my sister did pass along at least one trait to her son — Pryce is a smart ass.

338 words.

Blackmail From the Old School Vault: Vol. 2

This picture was taken in 2006 at Miss Katelyn's graduation party. Whoop! What is wrong with this picture? Absolutely nothing. It is priceless. And reminds me of college. And Mexico. And the Corona Club. Oh, how I miss all these girls. And Acuña.

And, Anna, don't worry. It is not Katelyn's mom behind the camera. It is Brady. That is why you look so excited to see him.

68 words.

Sisters Say the Darndest Things: Vol. 1

Sisters. Can't live with them. Can't live without them.

And, my own sister is of a rare breed. You see, she couldn't even brush her teeth when we were younger without asking for my help or advice. But, now that we're grown, I find that I go to her more and more for help. Like, how to have, care for and keep babies alive — she is on baby number two, so she must be doing something right. Right?

But what I love most about my sister is that she says the darndest things. Either really cute things that make you go, "Ah, you're so cute when you say that." Or really dumb things that make you slap your forehead. Or, better yet, really dirty things that make you accidentally spit water out of your nose.

And, yesterday was no different. We met up for a quick Chinese-food lunch. And, when two pregnant ladies get together to eat, you have four eyes, not just two, that are bigger than stomachs. So, we did what we thought made sense and ordered two appetizers with our meals.

Spring rolls to be exact. And, poor Kendra had never had a spring roll because according to her, "I don't eat that sushi shit."

I explained that spring rolls were like egg rolls, only they weren't fried.

"Sure," she said. "I'll try it."

So the spring rolls arrive and she gets this awful, nasty, disgusting look on her face. She picks the spring roll up with two fingers and stares at it.

"What the hell is this? I thought you said it was an egg roll!"

Apparently she had already forgotten I said it was NOT like an egg roll.

She takes a small bite. Like, a little nibble.

"This is disgusting. I can't do it. It looks like freakin' lettuce wrapped in a condom."

Yep, that's what she said. At a restaurant. In a loud voice.

And then I couldn't eat the spring rolls anymore.

330 words.

Blackmail From the Old School Vault: Vol. 1

These old school pictures are from 2002. I spent the majority of my summer studying abroad in Mexico with eight of my closest classmates. How we survived I'll never know. I did a lot of stupid things in Mexico. These pictures prove it.

How I know these pics are old.

1. They were taken with a throw-away camera. Poor millennial generation. You don't even know what a throw-away camera is. You've always used digital cameras, or better yet, a phone that has a camera squeezed right inside of it.
   
   Well, earlier this century, we didn't have those luxuries. We had to use throw-away cameras if we went on vacation and then walk five miles in the snow uphill and barefoot to take the film to Wal-Mart to get developed. Gasp. We did not get to enjoy the pictures instantly. And, I still had to spend an entire afternoon scanning each picture just so I could have an electronic version of it.
   
   
2. I had not been introduced to Photoshop yet. Heck, no one had been introduced to Photoshop yet. These pictures are in their raw, glorious form. Complete with fuzzy focusing and nice little red numbers that told you the date the pictures were taken. As if I'd ever want to forget when these pictures were taken.

 

This photo is awesome because we're making hair nets look sexy. And, there is absolutely no discrimination going on here. Only the girls had to wear hair nets. I mean, short hair can't contaminate produce. Only long, girly hair.

I spent a lot of pesos on souvenirs. I mean, how can you go to Mexico and not bring back a picture of a burro (which is framed and still hanging in my kitchen as we speak) or this monstrous sombrero (which came in handy when Brady needed a last minute quirky costume idea for Fish Camp). Yep, don't let me loose in a Mexican market. Or I will buy awesome things like this.

So I admitted doing a lot of stupid things in Mexico. One happened this night. The girls all decided to go salsa dancing at a local club not far from our dorm. We met up with some of the local college guys we had met earlier in the trip. Apparently in Mexico, you are unknowingly paired up with one dance partner for the night. I got left-footed Magee (far left). It was a joyous experience. Trust me. I wanted to go home. So I did. Alone in a Mexican cab. Stupid, I know. But, just look at him. What part of He. couldn't. dance. do you not understand?

Aggies in Mexico like to make everyone feel welcome. We like to make everyone an honorary Aggie. We like to show people how to Gig'em and Whoop. And we made everyone at this restaurant an Aggie for life. Even our poor roommate Maggie (far right). She made a good Aggie too. Just look at her form.

Why this picture is important. Because you have to focus in on my feet. My bandaged, held together by some purple dye and cloth, feet. I got attacked by a large cow with horns that was at least 9 feet tall and 5,000 pounds. Or maybe it was just a little calf that happened to trip me up with it's rope, causing me to scrape my feet in the dirty, rocky Mexican dirt. I got a tetanus shot in my butt in a Mexican hospital because of this calf. And my poor roommate Shawna had to duct tape plastic bags around my feet just so I could take a shower. And, I kept the X-rays and glued them in my scrapbook.

I like sombreros. And so do my friends. And after calling my mom from a pay phone in Mexico City a few nights before we returned to Texas, I had to think of a creative and inexpensive way for my mom and dad to find me in the Houston airport. So, the three amigos wore our over-sized sombreros on the flight home. And through customs. And through baggage claim. And my parents had no problem finding me. Remember, this was the 17th century, so there were no cell phones.

My dad really liked my sombrero. And he liked my double-taped luggage. Apparently, in the five weeks I had been gone, I bought a lot of souvenirs. Apparently, I should have brought bigger luggage. Cause I had to leave some American clothes behind in a Mexican hotel just so I could fit all my "can't live without" gifts in my bags. Why do you think I had to wear the sombrero at all times? My head was the only place it could fit.

793 words.