Archive for November, 2008

So I missed two days, and only provided you with 28 Days of Joy as opposed to the promised 30. I’m going to make an effort this next year to write down as much as I can remember from back in the day and the things we do now so I can easily write up 30 things. You would think it wouldn’t be that hard, but thinking of so many great stories is tough.

I had a good time with it, like I did last year, and I will do it again for sure come November 2009. It’s always fun to remember the good times we had when we were kids (or the times now when we act like kids). All “I HATE YOU!”‘s aside, she’s the best big sister someone could have, and I love her. (I write it because I won’t say it.)

And since she complained about the picture of me and her from day one of the 30 28 Days of Joy, here’s one I dug up from back in the day.

OMG CUTE OVERLOAD!

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So my ex-brother-inlaw is my roommate for about a month. He’s on the phone with Joy when the conversation turned to how dry Joy’s house is. We’ll call him Earl.

“Well, what did my brother say?” Asked Joy.

“He said he woke up this morning and his lips were dried and cracked,” Earl replied.

“That’s not from the house,” she said, “that’s from the semen.”

Earl laughed, and repeated it to me.

“You tell Joy it’s like her dry, crusty lips down there.”

Hilarity ensued.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

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It’s the night before Thanksgiving, and I’m at my sister’s.

Joy and I have each farted on each other’s heads at least once.

It’s going to be a long night.

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Nothing.

That’s what I got. But fear not. Tomorrow I go to Joy’s for Thanksgiving and will discuss possible posts.

In the meantime, growing up, Joy had a major crush on David Lee Roth.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8e-vgQSqNtA

Why, Joy? Why?

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When I was little, I used to talk in my sleep. Well, hell, I should be honest, I still do, but I don’t think it’s nearly as much as I used to.

My sister and I shared a bed for a number of weeks when we were kids because they were renovating the upstairs of the house we were living in (to give Joy and I seperate bedrooms). She was about eight, so it would have put me at about four.

When we went to bed, she’d wait for me to go to sleep, start talking in my sleep and then try to hold a conversation with me. Then, the next day, she’d make fun of me for the stupid things I said.

The only one I remember was about a magic bunny rabbit, and I was following it for some reason. I’m sure she has more.

Look, dammit, 30 cool stories is tough. But I know at least Joy will giggle at this one, so there you go.

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