Dear Brother,
Today at 8:24 (or something around that rather specific time) in the morning, in the year 1991, you shoved me away from center stage. Up until that moment in time, I was the only threat to Bentley the dog in regards to how much attention and love she got, and after that time I am sure that she must have gotten no love at all, because having two children under the age of 2 is probably hard work (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) I don't remember you as a baby. In fact, all photographic evidence points that you were a really ugly baby, and I was much prettier than you, and was loved more, because there are more pictures of me in the photo albums. (Mom would, of course, disagree. She would also point out that she loves us equally, but we all know that's a lie. She loves Topher and Lila her convertible much more than she loves either of us.) And despite the abandoment problems we both suffered in your infancy (See: Photographs of the two of us alone on the couch while the adults have a drink in the next room), we grew up to be rather normal people. But for the last seventeen years, we've been pretty solid. We love each other most of the time, are at each other's necks for the rest of the time, and steal from each other's hidden chocolate and soda stashes (Or is that just me? Oops), but it's been cool. We're tight. But this day is all about you. So here, have an imaginary box of Maltesers on me. And you know what? Have a beer, too. I'm legal over here, so I'll even buy it for you. And you know what? Have the best day of your life. It's the only day of the year we pay any attention to you, so milk it for what it's worth. I love you, Munks. You're the best brother in the world, and every other brother ain't got nuthin on you.
Love, Steffi
P.S. Ah hatechu!
Today at 8:24 (or something around that rather specific time) in the morning, in the year 1991, you shoved me away from center stage. Up until that moment in time, I was the only threat to Bentley the dog in regards to how much attention and love she got, and after that time I am sure that she must have gotten no love at all, because having two children under the age of 2 is probably hard work (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) I don't remember you as a baby. In fact, all photographic evidence points that you were a really ugly baby, and I was much prettier than you, and was loved more, because there are more pictures of me in the photo albums. (Mom would, of course, disagree. She would also point out that she loves us equally, but we all know that's a lie. She loves Topher and Lila her convertible much more than she loves either of us.) And despite the abandoment problems we both suffered in your infancy (See: Photographs of the two of us alone on the couch while the adults have a drink in the next room), we grew up to be rather normal people. But for the last seventeen years, we've been pretty solid. We love each other most of the time, are at each other's necks for the rest of the time, and steal from each other's hidden chocolate and soda stashes (Or is that just me? Oops), but it's been cool. We're tight. But this day is all about you. So here, have an imaginary box of Maltesers on me. And you know what? Have a beer, too. I'm legal over here, so I'll even buy it for you. And you know what? Have the best day of your life. It's the only day of the year we pay any attention to you, so milk it for what it's worth. I love you, Munks. You're the best brother in the world, and every other brother ain't got nuthin on you.
Love, Steffi
P.S. Ah hatechu!
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