AKA Stud Muffin

My brother turned fifteen this year. I haven’t written much about my brother on my blog, other than this one time. Because, let’s face it, when you are fifteen, is there anything that you would enjoy less than having your older sister write about you on the internet? Possibly a crater sized zit on your forehead, but that is the only other world-stopping thing that happens when you are a teenager.

If I did choose to write about my punk-ass brother, trust me, the material would be endless. The kid is something else. By something else, I mean something curiously ineffable and endlessly entertaining.

This is the kid who a couple of years ago, nonchalantly yelled to my grandmother in the kitchen, “Hey Barkeep! Pour me a scotch and water; hold the scotch.” He managed to utilize a word from the 16th century that most of us hadn’t heard of while cracking an obscure joke. I think he is also the only person who could get away with pseudo-insulting grandma. How is it that if anyone else did it, it would be outrageous, but with him it is hysterical?

The other day my mom sent me a picture of my brother and his prom date. Apparently he was asked to the prom by an upper classman, which is most assuredly a big deal. When I replied and asked my mom how prom went … if he had fun, etc. … she replied and said, “Yes, of course. Because, you know, he is the MUFFIN OF STUD.”