And I know I was wrong, when I said it was true
I spoke with my brother last night, who is also known as "Brad" amongst my family members because of his long, silky, locks. On Christmas day my family was watching "Legends of the Fall" when my mom said, "You're brother's hair looks just like Brad Pitt's!" We haven't referred to him by his real name since.So last night I call my family's house and when my mom picks up the phone it sounds like a tavern in the background. I hear loud music and somebody singing "Margaritaville." When Brad and I moved out of their house a few years ago, my parents had nobody else to take out their aggression on except for the dog (Little Evil aka Sausage Dog aka Sha-NING aka Shauna.) When that got old, they took up two new hobbies: drinking and karaoke. They've got the ultra super duper delux karaoke system: the microphone makes all these weird sound effects (my parents are especially fond of the echo sound) and it rates the singer's accuracy via percentage. To top it all off they have it hooked up to some Bose speakers so everyone throughout the house and across the street can be privy to their vocal stylings. Yup. My mom and dad host their own DIY bar in my childhood home. *Sigh*
Immediately my dad gets on the phone:
Dad: Hey, can you sing that song Let's Groove Tonight?
Me:Why? Do you need me to teach you for your performance on Saturday Night Live?
Dad: You got your facts mixed up - I'm performing on Letterman.
Me: Please, for the love of god, stop singing! And put Brad on!
Brad, being the beam of happiness that he is, gets on the phone and says "Fuck You" in response to everything I say to him.
Me: Brad?
Brad: Fuck you.
Me: Oh Brad, cheer up, my little ray of sunshine.
Brad: Fuck you.
Me: Brad, you know if you smile, the whole world smiles with you.
Brad: Fuck you.
Me: I know your angry because you can't bring all yer "Ladies" to mom and dad's house. Don't worry, you'll have your pimp game on soon enough!
Brad: Fuck you.
Brad's bummed; he had to move back into my parent's house because there was lots of shady meth activity happening at his old apartment, and he didn't want to deal with it. I'm actually proud of him for making a responsible decision. He's happy that my parents let him crash but I know he's not exactly happy to be back there again. I love my mom and dad but they aren't the easiest people to live with I guess that's why he told me last night that he was thinking about dying his locks bright red, and leaving just his bangs black. He's taking out his misery through his hair. I guess it'll match his whole tattooed, pierced, rocker/punk/DJ look, but I cannot help to see the irony in it all. If "alternative" people want to look "alternative" by dying their hair weird colors, getting tattoos and getting piercings, they aren't truly alternative because they ALL have weird hair color, tattoos, and piercings. If a person really wanted to be "alternative" amongst the "alternative" crowd, they should show up wearing a white Polo shirt, flat front kahkis, top sider shoes and a sweater around their shoulders. Brad fails to see this logic, and shakes his tattooed fore arm at me when I bring it up. It just all makes me laugh, like the guys in high school who would wear black eyeliner and pasty white makeup a la Robert Smith from The Cure and say that they do it because "they want to be unique."
Speaking of the Cure, I've been listening to them non-stop! Bless that Robert Smith and his bouts of depression. Robert, all I have to say is try St. John's Wort. That shit WORKS!
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