Sista Sista! (Sung in a Sing Song Voice)

                Sam and I are sitting at Starbucks right now and she effing hates me so much. I’m singing half hearted jingles about everything because 1. I love to sing and B. I just drank a venti Starbucks Double Shot on Ice and I’m supa hypa. She also hates me because I don’t wear my hat right the way, I keep getting angry at old people, and I’m a piss sore winner for every game we play. Sam is my sista sista and we have been best friends since she was born only a year and nine days after me.  Here is a picture of us as best friends

                So you know how models are supposed to be really dumb and pretty and obsess over their hair? Well Sam is all three. Okay, okay, that’s not true. She’s not that pretty. In all real life actuality, Sam is very talented and smart and is majoring in film at Columbia College of Chicago. That’s why when we meet new people together I have to tell them about myself first because once they hear “Chicago” and “film school” all of the sudden Mankato doesn’t seem so awesome… because it totally is… Growing up, Sam’s life was very different from the one she leads now. She basically lived the life of Lizzie McGuire without the weird doppelganger, Italy, pop star storyline. Except her doppelganger is Justin Bieber but she never got to sing at one of his concerts. Never say never! (Sung in a singsong voice.)

Can you tell which one is Bieber?

                When we were in middle school, everyone used to meet in the gym before school started and sometimes the principal would make announcements since everyone was in the same place at the same time. Well, like, four times that year she kept screaming at us about people vandalizing the bathrooms and I didn’t really understand why because I never saw anything wrong with the boy’s room. Then, at the end of the year, Sam comes up to me…

Sam: Brahd.

Brad: Sahm. (That’s how we say each other’s names.)

Sam: So you know how we always kept getting yelled at for vandalizing the bathrooms?

Brad: Yeah.

Sam: Okay. Well, that was me and Erica.

Brad: What.

Sam: Okay well, we can reach our hands up into the tampon machine and we would get them wet in the sink and throw them up so they stuck to the ceiling.

The epitome of hooligans.

                Coincidentally, Sam decided to be a Q-Tip for Halloween one year. Why? I don’t know. But she looked like a giant tampon. Like a huge effing tampon. … Like, imagine a five foot tampon just walking down the street asking you for candy. I can’t believe that my parents didn’t say anything…

Sam used to have long beautiful hair and then she decided she was like Jenny from the Block and she’d had Enough of her hair and chopped all of it off when she was a junior. Probably the worst decision she’s ever made because now she looks hideous. The first day that she cut her hair short, she made sure to wear a dress to school but she wasn’t thinking so clearly the second day. She wore a shirt with a rainbow on it. Total lezzy move. Just even the other day she heard, “Oh I didn’t know if you were a lesbian or a gay boy I wanted to make out with.”

But the best “Sam has short hair story” is when she moved to Chicago. She just got off the plane and she was in the airport and she heads off the bathroom. She’s washing her hands and this lady walks in and sees Sam and goes, “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought this was the women’s…” And she leaves. She must have realized her mistake and she comes walking back and my sister gives her a death glare and flips her off and walks out. Ugh, typical angry lesbian… lol.

In her second year of college she was signed on with Factor, a support group for those struggling to continue being anorexic. Sam was already a size two when she was signed on and they told her to lose two inches off her hips and thighs. So she does. And then they’re like, “Mm yeah. You’re going to have to lose more of your fat… so…” And she did! And now they’re still telling her to lose more weight! I mean she really could stand to lose a few more el bees. Personally, I won’t be happy until she looks like this-

                It’s a good thing that she has a sense of humor about the whole modeling thing because that job is crazy. In addition to the whole not eating thing, there are about a billion other things she has to deal with. One time before a runway show, the director lectured all the models and told them that they better be dressed by their turn to walk or she would send them out naked and that she was serious about it. So Sam does her first runway walk and comes back and starts to change and someone tells her that she didn’t have to change into her second outfit and to get into her third. Then, the serious lady yells at her to get back into her second piece and then by that time it was Sam’s turn to go out on the runway and she was just standing backstage naked. And serious lady goes, “You need to get out there NOOOOWWW!”  Like Sam’s just going to be all, “Oh okay” and strut out in her birthday suit.

One time she farted at the end of the runway.

To clear some things up- I don’t think Sam is that ugly. Yes, she is straight. And she’s a really talented film maker. She did this movie with just her laptop.

                What can we learn from my sister? You can be a model and do whatever the fuck you want. You want to crop dust a runway? Go for it. You wanna dress like a tampon for Halloween? Sweet.  Her next move is to go all Domino Harvey and become a bounty hunter and have sex in the desert with a Mexican. Believe me. She can do anything. 

Scary Things

A lot of scary things have happened to me lately. First of all, Josh and I have been playing racquetball like crazy and it’s really fun but really scary. Josh is better than me and almost always wins every time and it just puts me in the worst mood. I’m so scared of losing and whenever I lose I always feel like someone’s holding an “L” over my forehead like the Glee posters and my Glee club is never going to win nationals. Also, Josh hits the ball really hard and he hit me in the ribs with the ball on my birthday. But then I hit him in the eye with the ball the following week and I felt really bad… but it was hilarious.

And there are all these other things that I’m scared of and they’re pretty ridiculous.

Sometimes I dream that there’s velociraptors in my house. And sometimes I dream that Jaws is going to eat me. The first time I watched Jurassic and Jaws I cried. Actually, that was in school. Ok. So I was out at recess and I think I was in first grade and the teachers were like, “Ohmygod it’s Hoth out here. Ok children, indoor recess instead.” So we go inside and the sixth graders were watching this movie. So we sit down and it’s whatever and I’m just watching the TV. And all of the sudden, this kid gets electrocuted and a dinosaur comes out of the wires with a light bulb burning it’s head and it’s trying to eat this lady and I spazzed out. I told my mom when I got home from school and I’m sure I was really melodramatic about it. I looked like this-

Then my mom called the school and the teacher got fired. Like Donald Trump fired. The best part was when I told my dad, he goes, “Well, Brad. You know those dinosaurs are just fake, right?” “Yeah.” “Well why don’t we watch it and you can see that it’s all just made up.” So then we did and I loved it! It was one of my favorite movies after that! But seriously, that teacher should not have been showing such graphic material to six year olds.

                Josh is scared of mentally challenged people and witches. Actually, he said that my initials the other day stood for Big Retarded Witch. Offensive. The other day we checked out at Wal-Mart and Josh thought that our teller was a witch.

Josh: She had a necklace with the Wiccan symbol and two earrings with stars and a circle around them and that means she’s a bad witch… Ugh witches scare me.

Brad: Why?

Josh: Because they might be real! I mean has anyone considered the possibility that they are? That’s why whenever I think someone’s a witch I’m just really charming and nice…”

I’m scared that people won’t like my outfit or my Facebook status. #gayboyproblems.

               

Have you ever been an accidental pedophile? I know I have. Seriously! Can you think of anything worse than being accused of pedophilia? If I had to make a list of the worst things ever it would go like this-

1.       Being mistaken for a child lover

2.       Being eaten alive by ants

3.       The Holocaust

4.       Dropping your cell phone and then having to put it back together

                               

I’ve been an accidental pedophile two times. First, I was working at Disney one time being a Greeter. This means that I stand outside of the line and say, “Yep this is the start of the line.” “No, I’m sorry we’re out of fast passes for the day” “Oh, when I said that we were out of fast passes for the day I meant for the day. Yes, I know, it’s very confusing.” So it’s beautiful and sunny out and I’m just minding my own business and this five or six year old girl is running around the courtyard and she’s super cute and she’s dancing and just being adorable. Then, she comes running up to me and I kid you not, she lifts up her shirt like she’s on Girls Gone Wild and gives me the biggest smile ever. It was the worst. I kept waiting to be fired or sent to pedo-hell not to be confused with ghetto-hell where you have to live in Detroit for the rest of eternity.

AND THEN I always walk by the swimming pool when I’m done working out because I want to see if the men’s swim team is practicing and they never are! But this one time they were and I got so excited! I was like Precious when she steals the chicken. I ran as fast as I could with my giant backpack and then nearly threw up from joy. So I get to the balcony where I can watch and I immediately start scanning for the hottest guy. As I searched I realized that none of them were really all that muscular. “The B-team must be sitting out while the sexies swim…” I thought. I probably sat there for five minutes before I realized that I was watching the high-school swim team. Godammit.

A lot of people say that I’m fat-o-phobic but I’m seriously not scared of or hate fat people. I used to be one! Believe me, I have several fat friends and they are all quite jolly.

Finally, there is one thing that scares me more than any of these things. Showers. Ok well not showers per gay but that there’s someone in them. When I was like eight or nine I started to have this suspicion that there might be someone in the shower who was going to kill me when I was peeing. So I started to check every time I went to the bathroom and of course no one was ever there. So I told myself I was being silly one day and that I had to stopping being scared of something so stupid.

So one day I go to the bathroom and I’m thinking, “Don’t check the shower. Your fine.” But I did anyway and obviously no one was there. So I start to go potty and ALL OF THE SUDDEN THE SHOWER CURTAIN CAME TO LIFE AND GRABBED ME! I don’t think I’ve ever felt like I was going to die more than I did at that moment. You know how some people wet themselves when they’re scared? I literally stopped in midstream like my whole body was like, “Fuck it. Nope. Nope.”

        It turns out that my sister, Sam was hiding in the shower and I can’t imagine how I didn’t see her. This is the horrible demon that scarred me for life-

She gets to be a model and I can’t even urinate without stressing out that I’m going to get murdered. I’m also scared of tornados, bats (duh), The Joker from Batman, being poor, that things won’t go my way, and that Starbucks might be closed. I don’t know why that last one frightens me but I still get that anxiety at like, one in the afternoon.

                What is the lesson in these scary stories? To quote Liam Ra’s al Ghul Neeson, “To conquer fear, you must become fear.” I’ve decided to become my fear and rename myself Veloci-Bradford.

'Mo Dogs Go Part One

                I had a panic last week. I mean I drank some coffee and pooped and then I felt better but still I was freaking out. I was trying to think of a new blog post and I had no idea what to write! I was like, “Kittens are cute and funny…” “I should write about how hilarious I am!” “Can I just post Charlie bit my finger and call it good?” I just felt so smothered. Josh was holding my mouth and nose shut to suffocate me but now I know what a panic attack really is!

                Then I went to visit Megan and we drank a bunch of coffee and watched CSI and I saw a ghost in her bathroom and we had so much fun. And then I saw that she had the book GO, DOG. GO! And I had an apocalypse. I realized that I could do a reinterpretation of the classic children’s book and make it completely inappropriate and gay. SO HERE IT IS, WORLD! Part one!

The Bat Story

                The week of the infestation was, like, the hottest week ever. It was so hot that I would have gladly water boarded myself. IT WAS SO HOT. I felt bad for poor Amara who was staying at my house for the week because she was expecting fun and True Blood and we got terrorism and the surface of the sun. Well my scary old haunted house that I live in doesn’t have air-conditioning so we slept with fans blasting in our faces.

                That night Amara was sleeping on the couch and I went up to my bedroom, took off all my clothes, and pointed the fan directly on my moist, naked body. I was sleeping like a sound little baby when in the dead of night, I felt something tickle my thigh. Thinking that the fan was blowing the sheet on me, I swiped it away and then all of the sudden- SOMETHINGGRABBEDMYFINGER. I heard fluttering around the room and I look at my window and a bat was climbing up the screen with its little finger wings.

                As I was having a mild stroke, I pulled some jeans on over my tight, sculpted figure and ran downstairs…

This is me having a mild stroke-

Me: Amara! Amara ohmygod. There’s a bat it my room! Amara, there’s a bat in my room!

Amara: (sleepily) What? No, Brad just go back to bed.

Me: No! Amara I’m serious-

                And then out of nowhere the bat flew down the stairs and we both screamed and ran up to my room, we checked for baby bats, and then went to bed. The next morning, we creeped downstairs and found it snuggled in the crown molding in my kitchen. Knowing exactly what to do, we put plastic, grocery bags over our heads so it wouldn’t get caught in our hair and decided to spray the bat with Pam and bathroom cleaner to disorient it. So while holding brooms and spraying it with our good idea the bat just got pissed off and crawled deeper into the crack in the wall.

                Amara and I looked at each other like, “Well now what?” when the bat abruptly attacked! Fearing it would use Bite or Leech Life (both of which would be super effective) we swung our brooms at the bat while falling on the floor looking like we were trying to do the Bernie while having epileptic seizures. The scene sort of looked like this- 

                Instead of using my shotgun (broom) to blow it (smack it with my Ethiopian arms) to smithereens, we sat in the kitchen thinking of what to do next when that Dracula-whore started crawling horizontally across the brick wall like some possessed Reagan shit. AND THEN because it hadn’t had enough fun the first time, it started flying at us over and over again. It was as if it knew air force training combat and we were like helpless, screeching kittens with plastic bags over our heads. Keep in mind that every time the bat flies at us, Amara is still sitting in the kitchen chair and I’m standing behind her and we’re hitting nothing but air with our brooms. The final time it came around, Amara was so frustrated that she screamed, “GET OUT, FUCKER!”  And it did! We both high fived and sat back down in front of the TV.

                I looked closer at my finger and I realized the horrible. I had been bitten. My firm, sexy body had been violated. There were two, tiny, little bite marks in my left finger and I knew that I had to get rabies shots. I called my dad and he set up an appointment for me and then said, “Why didn’t you catch it? You could have had the bat tested for rabies instead.” Like I’m going to catch the devil and keep him safe in my Tupperware. Then, the next day I’m on my way to the hospital and my mom calls…

Mom: Hey whatcha doin’?

Me: Um… I’m on my way to the hospital to get rabies shots because I got bit by a bat.

Mom: WHAT?

Me: Yeah I didn’t want you to worry so…

My dad told me later that she said to him on the phone, “Why didn’t you or Brad tell me that he got bit by a bat?! Did everyone think I was going to FREAK OUT OR SOMETHING?!?!”

                 Four doctors at the hospital were like, “Why didn’t you catch it so you wouldn’t have to go through this?” Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to catch my own rapist! So I had to get four shots directly in my finger and four in my arms and then I was supposed to go back three times after that for more shots but I was so over it. I might have rabies now but it’s whatever.

Amara was leaving that week to move back into her apartment and like, three days after the bat incident she couldn’t find her keys. We’re looking around the house and she looks under her suitcase and they’re not there. So she looks around the house and comes back to her suitcase… checks under it again… and… there was another effing bat pinned under her suitcase.

That's me and that's Amara scared out of our minds.

                It was the worst thing ever. We had to get an exterminator and seal up the house and apparently there was another bat on the other side of the house where the straight boys live. That week at Barnes and Noble everyone called me “Bat Boy” which I guess was clever and hilarious. What is to be learned from this story? I’ve learned that bats are like rapists. And I found these steps on WikiHow to remove a bat/rapist from your house.

1.       Allow the rapist to land.

2.       Pick up the rapist if necessary.

3.       Coax the rapist down from high places.

4.       Carry the rapist outside- Set the trapped rapist on the ground some distance from your house. Close the door so that the rapist does not accidently come inside and rape you again.

5.       Help the rapist if it seems fatigued.

6.       Take care using your hands directly- You should wear leather gloves. Do not squeeze too tightly.