What gets me is that it's Alex, my brother, the boy who hated girls. The boy who wouldn't touch cootie-ridden salsa that Stephanie and I "double dipped" in. The boy who nearly tried killing (or maiming, incident still under review) me at the wee age of nine and unplugged all the phones in the house so I couldn't call mom for help. The boy who never appreciated the "HELLO ALEX" messages I would lovingly leave on the shower wall out of my hair.
And now, this boy:
Much like my near-death experience, it is unclear what happened here.
Steph and I went to Ashley's bridal shower this past weekend. Though I normally love bridal showers, I spent the better half of the week warming up my gag reflexes. All the gifts...jokes...etc...etc...would be about that boy. MY BROTHER. My imagination suffered a week from hell. It was then I decided that relatives of the groom-to-be should not be allowed at bridal showers.
Lucky for me, the shower was actually rather tame and my gag reflexes gathered a little dust. It was, dare I say it, really fun! Can you even dream of saying otherwise about an event with cookies n' cream cupcakes (complete with oreo bottoms)?
However, if and when I ever am the cause for the need of a bridal shower, I will insist that I host the party, decorate for the party, have the party. I will invite no one. I will sit by myself, spend approximately 90 minutes making dirty jokes, pop the balloons and call it a night.