Stop me if you've heard this one...

Dearest G,

I must start out by explaining my fleeted urination. The key is…you don’t have to wash your hands EVERY time…I mean no one will know, and it makes you look like you have a super talent. It’s much easier said that done for some, but in my case it’s easy. I wear rubber gloves 24 hours a day, so even if I leak through the half roll of toilet paper I use, my hands stay clean and all I have to do is change those bitches and I’m on my way…you see you are no less of a human than I, I just have worse hygiene than most. But I can still amaze you and that’s all that matters.

Now that the cat’s out of the bag…comparing the moments we shared in an upscale ritzy neighborhood with hidden treasures like that store to the best years of our lives is purely an understatement. I’d like to begin with reminding you of a small reason why you don’t remember how to find the little store. After you got accused of holding the place up, pissed yourself and ruined my brand new beaded seat covers, the owner of the place was investigated and it was found that he not only owned one sawed off shot gun, but he was dealing arms out of the back of the place and that apartment above it you may ask? It was used to hold swingers parties for all those uptight residents that we liked to call “neighbors” back then. The place is closed my friend and I think you should take some pride in being the match that burnt it to the ground. Even if you did wet your pants like a thousand times after that just remembering the horror of the event:



We all have flaws, yours make you beautiful, inside and out.

Sleeping at 3 pm was a highlight. Remember that one time I thought you were hovering over me, but you told me to go back to sleep because it was a dream? That was weird huh? Anywho…Monday night TV will never be the same, and I’d like to thank you for always eating with the fork…it never failed that every Monday I just “happened” to run out of spoons. It wasn’t at all the fact that watching someone eat pudding with a fork is entertaining to someone like me. You’re a good sport. And you make a mean cupcake.

I enjoyed your little ode to us a la photographs so much that I thought I'd like to share some of the finer points that I have stowed away in my enormous brain.

Remember the time we decided to take a walk together, just to enjoy all that Naperville has to offer? Yeah that was great, but what I remember most about it was this:

We asked someone to take our picture so we could remember the great time we were having:


After they took that picture of only our mid sections, you got a little upset when I commented on the fact that I have better abs then you:

And then we weren't really on speaking terms:

But then you felt bad, because you know my abs are like obviously rock hard in that picture so we went and hung out with Stefan's Grama and ate noodles until I no longer had flat abs.

One event that needs no introduction was the best day before thanksgiving ever.

We got drunk and watched people eat pies out of waitresses crotches, I was embarrassed of course, and you were just plain disgusted.

So we got the hell out of there and went to a rave.
You got the last glow stick, so we shared, because that's what best friends do:

It was time to go when I had taken too much X and tried to make out with you:


I think I've let out one too many of our dirty secrets for one night.

This walk down memory lane has made me tired, for we all know I am not one for physical exertion of any kind.

As for my brother, I have alerted the republican authorities and he is well on his way to a recovery in an unknown christian right wing cult as we speak, so you shouldn't be hearing anymore from him...unless he concocts some hairbrained scheme to escape or they discover that he really wants to be there, either way he'll be out in no time.

I'm out.