Someone is Messing With Us

So it's Valentine's Day. Or what I like to call Kay Jeweler's Day. That place really knows how to milk this holiday. I don't even have cable and the commercials are still annoying me. It's not that I'm bitter about VD, it's just that I feel like it's a load of crap. De Beers probably invented it right about the same time they started destroying people and their lives for hunks of stone in the earth.

Effing De Beers. (As I finger my diamond earrings I accepted from my sister as a graduation gift. Gaw! I'm a fraud.)

Anyway, so I tell Internet Guy (or MDCJ, or Handsome Redhead, or whatever you want to call him) that I don't want anything for VD and I meant it. He probably thinks I'm setting some crazy woman trap in which if he fails to get me something I will pitch a hissy fit and later throw it in his face.

Wrong.

Just like my dad says on his birthday when I call him and tell him "happy birthday, Dad!"... "Just another day, Brynn." What a buzz kill that guy is.

Lately, however, the roommates and I have been receiving small gifts in the yard. A little holiday cheer for the blue house. Someone is definitely messing with us.

One night I came home to this.

Seabiscuit? What is that? According to the poster, it's a movie. In which Jeff Bridges participates and where "a long shot becomes a legend."

So the night I came home to said poster, I first (naturally) took a picture. Then, since I assumed it was one of the roomies', I brought it inside, only to hear the girls the next day, "What the hell is this? Where the hell did it come from?"

It's from the neighborhood watch. It's from the man/woman who keeps leaving us extraneous gifts on the porch. It's from the orange cat who posts up on the porch furniture and vomits on everything. It's his way of saying he's sorry.

That's it. The cat did it. He's sorry. Love, Fat Orange Cat.

Acceptable. But how do you explain the red mountain bike in the yard at 2 AM. How did you manage that, Fat Tabby Cat? That bike is pretty hefty. I know because I lugged it into the house at 2:03 AM, leery that the owner of red bicycle was hiding behind the fence and watching, waiting for some thief to come along and drag his bike away, (drag because he had cleverly let the air out of the tires so it could not be driven) and then jump the thief in a crazy hobo-like rage. These are all the things that my head made up as I panicked over the bicycle for the good three minutes I waited before I made my move; ultimately deciding that, Thanks Guy, I have a new bike.

And so... we wait. Will the gift giving continue? Are we going to get something for Valentine's Day? A De Beers diamond? A bouquet of red roses? Probably not. We're probably going to get a steaming pile of dog shit next. Because, let's be honest, someone is definitely messing with us. He/She is laughing his/her ass off because he/she keeps putting junk in our yard/on our porch, and we (mostly me) keep dragging it in our house and leaving it lying around looking cumbersome and really messing up the design of our living room. This is funny to this person. He/She is probably keeping a diary over how stupid we (okay, me) are. I know because if I were messing with someone by leaving random shit on their porch, I would for sure keep a diary about it.

Sister, Sister

Schwester. Hermana. Sorella. Soeur. Zus. Sister.

My sisters are the best thing that I have in my life. Thanks, parents.

Maura Lanell, or more affectionately and since the age of zero years old, Clydesdale.

The youngest of the three, this girl is phenomenal. ONE of the coolest things about Clyde is that she knows anything and everything about classic rock: she can name the song, year it came out, the lead guitarist, and how he died in his own vomit or plane crash or whatever.

She is incredibly easy going, up to a point of disgust oft times, and has a hard time passing by a couch (or any warm patch of softness anywhere) without falling asleep on it. Some of the best times I've had with Clyde were just driving around, listening to tunes, flipping a coin to turn left or right in the middle of nowhere, and just enjoying each other's company.

You can tell her anything and she does not judge, she is always accepting and charming beyond belief. While Maura is cool as shit, she is also uncommonly anal, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense... she doesn't care if you accidentally catch her hair on fire, but she'll plum flip out if you don't make her bed correctly; with this pillow here and this tag facing this way. Maura, like the rest of the women in our family, is at her peak in the summer. She functions best in the sun and she prefers her shorts short enough for her pockets to hang out the bottom. (And then Dad throws them away. And sometimes said shorts end up being mine and I'm like, "Hey Dad, why did you throw away my shorts? I'm 26, I do what I want." And he's like, "Come here, it's time for your whippin'." And then I run away and drive back to Austin.)

Maura despises the cold so much that it makes her vomit. She gets into her (skateboard) car and blasts the heat at such a high capacity that upon the car heating up, she finds she has created a hotbox which overcomes her with nausea and she gags and ultimately, vomits.

She is clever, smart, sensitive, and giving. There are countless times I recall Maura being a comfort to me when others were not able. A beautiful person inside and out. My best friend.

Best friend, that is, right behind this girl, who has known me every year of my life and who used to throw toys in my bassinet: Alyssa Dawn. Deta Dawn, Lyssie, Lyssa Belle, Ish, Assyla, Asylum, etc, etc.

Alyssa is one of the most dynamic persons you will ever meet. She is true to herself in any circumstance. She is proud, determined, and to some, a tad frightening. When I was in 1st Grade and Alyssa in 3rd, an older girl bullied me on the playground incessantly. Alyssa and I didn't have recess together but we passed each other on the way in/out. I had dealt with it as long as I could but I finally told Alyssa what was going on. She made me point the girl out to her, who was a year older than Alyss, and while I went back into school for the day and have no idea the exchange that was made between the two girls, the bully bitch never messed with me again. I almost feel sorry for her because God only knows what Alyssa said to scare the shit out of her. Empty threats, I can guarantee they were not.

Alyssa is honest beyond belief and sticks up for what she knows is right. She is incredibly knowledgeable about a little bit of everything; there are few subjects in which she cannot participate intelligently. She hates wire hangers, substitute cursing, ("If you're going to curse, you might as well say the whole damn word!") and when audiences sing the lyrics instead of the band in a live concert.

Her sense of fashion is incomparable to most. She is daring, bold, and striking. Eat your heart out dudes, she's taken.

Alyssa is like a classic country song that never goes out of style. She was country when country wasn't cool.

Lately, she's been dragging around this thing...

...Miss Bella Pearl. The newest woman in the family.

And of course, Maude: Joan Elizabeth.

This woman can rage on the piano, sing like a freaking dove, and do a mean Michael Jackson. (Thanks for learnin' us some moves, mom.) It is few and far between when all five of us get to be together and I look forward to it every time.

I could not live without my sisters and I cannot wait to see the woman that Bella Pearl will become. She seems to be coming along nicely so far, although her German could use some work...