Flied Lice?

A new Chinese place opened up not too far from my house, so I stopped by the other day to pick up a take out/delivery menu. Tonight, Brother wanted Chinese. So, I whipped out the menu and dialed the number. It rang and rang. And rang. And rang. Four times I tried to call, all met with the same result.

I told Brother that if he wanted Chinese that bad, he would have to go there. This was met with a snort and him begrudgingly putting on his shoes. He hates going out to eat, unless it's with a girl who will probably put out. So, I guess it's better to say that he hates going out to eat with family.

We go there, and it just reeks of newness. We both order the iced tea, and Brother balks when our waitress brings our drinks. It looks like an iced urine specimen. The taste is somewhat vague. I figure it to be herbal, Brother reasons that it is probably the urine of all the dogs the restaurant killed for our Peking Surprise. The drink menu says Jasmine Iced Tea.

What's wrong with plain old Lipton???

Over dinner, we discuss various goings-on. Brother is making plans for the basement. His Boom-Boom Room.

Brother says he wants to pull up the multi-color tile in the basement and put carpet down. I veto this idea, if only because the tile provides a nice little barrier between water and furniture in the event it rains for 40 days and 40 nights again like it did last year. At least until we figure out where the leak is. I told him to just toss down an area rug for now.

Besides, I kind of like the tile.

"Why?" He snorts, "It's not like you're going to have any children."

Asshole.

Brother eats his weight in Chinese. He eats like a horse and still maintains a decent figure. He must get that from Dad. I can't even look at a slice of cheesecake with my ass getting bigger. I get that from Mom.

Brother forks a whole, sauteed mushroom and advises that when eating a whole mushroom, it should be chewed thoroughly because if not, you will crap it out whole again. "They'll pop out like anal beads. Pop! Pop! Pop!"

I don't know how he knows about anal beads. I didn't ask. There's just some things I don't want to know.

We finish dinner. Brother leans back in his chair and announces that he will go home and proceed to produce the world's biggest turd. I ask him to use the downstairs bathroom when he does. I'm surprised my plumbing system hasn't ruptured since he moved in. Yet. Brother is very in tune with his gastric system, particularly the lower part. He's going to be one of those old people who obsess about when they poop. He's going to have it down to the minute. I just know it. If he's a minute late, he's going to freak out.

I stop by Starbucks and spring for coffee. Brother sings (badly) when he gets his coffee, and the barista makes a face. She's clearly not impressed. I'm still convinced that someone is going to shoot at us because Brother will piss off the wrong person.

His current thing: Wishing everyone Happy Black History Month. This coming from a kid who looks like a skinhead.

My house would be so boring if he did not live here.