For those who are rife with tension waiting for news of my brother and his suitor, alas, there is none.  No more roses, or microwavable snacks. Damnit.   Oh, and sorry the update took so long. I know the entire internet is waiting with bated (or baited, if you had sushi for supper) breath.  I've just been busy y'all.

    BUT! All is not lost.  My cousin Jo and her husband (let's call him Schmoopy), were on Joel's side of town when a wave of immaturity overtook them. Schmoopy spotted a Red Bull can on the side of the road (unless I grossly misunderstood, he actually turned the vehicle around and then crossed the highway on foot to go get this can. Which? Valor above and beyond, my friends. This man is truly one of us.).

   While he was doing that, he also picked a lovely array of spring wildflowers. Then, while waiting for Jo at the beauty shop, he apparently spent a bit of time arranging them in the red bull can just so.  Which, if you'd ever met the guy, would be the funniest thing about this whole deal. 

   The first I knew of this caper was when Jo called me from Joel's driveway, giggling her ass off at the sight of her overall wearing husband leaving carefully arranged flowers in a Red Bull can at her (male) cousin's door. 

    I should note that I tried to get them to run down to the Exxon at the corner and get a bag of popcorn, but they wouldn't. The chickenshits.

    So that evening, I call him, ostensibly for an update on RoseBoy, but really to see if he's found the flowers and is now hiding behind his curtains watching his driveway, loaded firearm in hand, ready to defend his virtue. 
   He did not find them. Damnit. I can't very well make him go look without arousing his suspicions.

     I call Jo (Did he find 'em? Did he?).  I tell her to call him. She refuses, saying that he'll get suspicious (I may have already noted this chickenshit streak of hers). She finally agrees to call him with a story about how her oldest son was at his friend's house(conveniently located right next door to my brother's), and saw 'some guy' leaving 'something' at his door. 

     Joel (who is also a little bit chicken shit) refuses to go look. Says he'll look in the morning.  Now, I ask, could any of you wait until morning to go see if your stalker has left something by your door?  I don't think so!

   So, anyway, I call him this evening and start to say, 'Hey, Jo says some guy left something at your house. What was it?'. What I actually said  was 'Hey, Jo says.." because he started laughing and told me to cut the shit.  Apparently, Jo was right. Her call did make him suspicious.  But she's still chickenshit. 

  To summarize:  Jo and I are 12.  13 at the oldest.  Her husband has an unexpected knack for flower arrangements and a heretofore unknown enthusiasm for fucking with people's heads.   My brother is smarter than the average bear and it's not as easy as you'd think to fool him.  Also, we are all chickenshit.

      Now, I leave you with a little gift from Jo. She sent this to me and made me watch it. I haven't forgiven her yet, but as with all things, time will help.  If you liked the David Hasselhoff video, this will be right up your alley.

      (Y'all, I just watched the Hasslehoff video again. I think I kind of have a crush on him.  Help me.)

 

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