Fight Much

I miss bickering – with anyone.

I’ve been quite nice lately and somehow people find it difficult to contradict me. And in the event my fangs come out they still choose to shut up, no one really enjoys seeing me wear my bitch on.

These are the moments when I miss my sister Kate. Man we sure have thoroughly, enjoyable and exhausting squabbles. With her, I get to cancel my edit button and just argue away. I’m talking about seriously  getting down with how well we insult each other. Kate, like me doesn’t care if words hurt, are vulgar, out of place, insipid, or just plain mean. And she secretly enjoys losing her temper on me, just as much as I do on her. Sometimes going full-Rambo at each other is so therapeutic.

I can’t just get that much entertainment with my brother … he’s a pile of sissy. He’s petrified that if he gets on my bad side (1) he gets lost in the argument of who is smarter [that’s always me, thank you very much], (2) I kick him out of the house, which is not mine and (3) I punch him square in the face and he can’t do anything about it. You see, my sister punches back and all we need is a referee … which by the way, is played well by my brother.

Sometimes I wish for a boyfriend not so much for the romantic functions, but for the frantic heaves of fighting, yelling at each other, ignoring phone calls/ text messages, wishing you’d never met each other, and finally making out – I mean making up, making up! Sheesh!

Currently listening to December by Collective Soul Hole via Launchcast


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