(no subject)

[phosfate]

So my sister Kim came to stay for a couple of weeks, while...you know. It worked out okay. She's good at cleaning, I'm good at sorting and chucking, and my big brother is good at dealing with idiots and paperwork. We're like the Galaxy Trio, only better animated.

However, Kim and I live on different planets. This is only to be expected, since there's 11 years between us. She likes Anderson Cooper and shows about people with extra heads who have multiple births of 750-pound men. I punish her with Aqua Teen Hunger Force and The Colbert Report (it takes her two days to figure out that the latter is not in fact a real news show).

Anyway, we have conversations.

(In the bookstore)
Kim: Camey Kay's Girls? What's Camey Kays?
Me: Uh...Kamikaze Girls.
Kim: Oh.

(In the hospice, she spots me yanking out an eyebrow hair.)
Kim: Stop that! What are you doing?
Me: Oh. Sorry. I've been kind of...worrying at my eyebrows, the last couple weeks. It'll stop when this is over with.
Kim: Oh Jesus. Well, stop it. (pause) At least you don't do that thing where you pull your hair out.
Me: Well, not anymore.
Kim: Oh, my God! When did you...
Me: Oh, y'know. Junior high, high school.
Kim: Oh, my God!
Me: Only a little!
Kim: Jesus.
Me: It was 25 years ago. Chill.
Kim: Jesus. What made you stop?
Me: Now that I think about it, Dad² finally died.
Kim: (pause) Oh Jesus! (busts up laughing)

(My niece and nephew have a band called Eux Autres*, so we're talking about their music 'n stuff. A pattern emerges. A pattern of DEATH! Sorry. Little melodrama there.)
Kim: [Her daughter] really likes [some band I've never heard of]. Do you like them?
Me: Who?
Kim: She likes [some band I've never heard of].
Me: I have literally never heard of them.
Kim: That's weird. You used to, like, know everything about music.
Me: Yeah. That's kind of gone. My musical brain stops around 1990 or so.
Kim: What happened?
Me: Kurt Cobain shot himself. Then my radio station went country overnight without telling anyone.
Kim: Oh.
Me: It was horrible. I woke up one morning, and there was Garth Brooks.
Kim: I understand.


*Google them. They're batshit cool.

Comments

[thistlethorn.livejournal.com]

Hey, one of my former students used to pluck out his eyebrow hairs (and also the hair on his arms) in times of stress (which, for him, was all day at school, because, you know, there were *people* there, sort of unavoidably). But he had to then pull them apart into two halves, then methodically throw away first one half, then the other. It seemed like a reasonable way to cope, to me. Not terribly destructive (which he could be if he felt too cornered -- he was a hulking 250-pound adult biter); reasonably benign, and a usually-renewable source. Whatever works. (It's a hell of a lot better than my bad habit of fooling with the scabs on my hands and arms that hang around for months because of A) very slow healing due to diabetes, B)constant new owies due to dog and cat, and C) me fooling with the scabs on the owies (it's usually an unconscious activity...except when it's occasionally deliberate). Oops, sorry -- probably...no, *definitely* TMI.)

Your hair is pretty, though, so I'm glad you're leaving that alone.

She likes Anderson Cooper and shows about people with extra heads who have multiple births of 750-pound men

The Discovery Health Channel!! I've seen a few of those in horrified fascination.

[annlarimer.livejournal.com]

But he had to then pull them apart into two halves, then methodically throw away first one half, then the other.

I feel all amateurish now.

I am enjoying a quarter-inch or so of fuzzy eyebrow stubble. It's like a little G.I. Joe Adventure Team guy's head.

[thistlethorn.livejournal.com]

Aw! I bet the fuzzies are cute! *smoochies*

Yeah, you're definitely amateur status. 'Cause, like, I forgot -- he used to do that with his *eyelashes*, too. (That's gotta hurt....)