Alright, I was talking with my brother about things I did when I was younger, that weren't the best things I've ever done.

Looking back at it, I was a very dumb teenager, and I should probably be dead. How I'm alive, I don't know. If I kept count correctly, the dumb, dangerous, or illegal stuff that I did during my younger years, outweighs EVERYTHING else I've did...3 to 1.

I'll elaborate more on this another time. It's almost 1:30 and I'm going to sleep.

Fourteen hours later, and I finally feel that I am reasonably caught up.

I worked this weekend, knowing that there would be no other people there, because I was on a mission to catch up on all the work I have been neglecting. After spending 8 hours yesterday and another 6 hours today, I guess I am as caught up as I need to be.

Now I'm going to cook up the beautiful rib eyes I bought on my way home, and prepare for another week of hell.

Have you ever had a day at work where the time just flew by?

Yeah, neither have I.

Since my brother is staying with me, I've been going into work late and leaving early. By going in late I mean 8:30, and by leaving early I mean 5ish.

My brother thinks that I am "batshit insane" (that's a quote from him) for normally getting to work at 5:30 every morning. I don't completely disagree, working 90+ hour weeks is very batshit insane.

Remember that plan I had to take it easy and get grounded again? It has officially been scrapped. I physically can't do it. I feel like I am going to go insane from the boredom. I've worked everyday this week, and I am behind. Since 8:30 is an acceptable start time, in the mindset of my brother, that is the time we get to work.

I am up, dressed, and already have 3 cups of coffee in me by 5:05. I am still on the schedule of getting to work at 5:30. I start doing whatever work I can do at home right then. I wait until 8:05 and if he isn't down, and ready by then...I leave. He has found that out TWICE in the 5 days.

When I finally get to work, I feel like I am behind. When I show up at 5:30 I get a ton of stuff done. I am completely alone until about 7:30, when the managers show up, and it is just us until about 8:30 when everybody else starts to show up.

In those 3 hours I could get so much done because I didn't have people getting in my way or asking me questions. Without those three hours I feel like I am playing catch-up call day long.

Today alone I had a meeting with dumb and dumber about them getting fired, because they are upset and "considering legal action" because they believe that they were treated unfairly, I had some town officials show up because we have to get everything inspected before we can go onto the next step, I had to have a "discussion" with a manager about his work ethic, I had to take about a bajillion phone calls, among various other mind numbingly pathetic tasks.

I didn't even get a lunch because I was so behind with the stuff I had to get done.

And so it begins. When my brother comes and stays with me, we always have some type of 'war' (usually just for fun). Last year it was more of a practical joke thing, this year it has escalated to projectiles.

He hit me right as I opened the door. I wanted to strangle him, not because it hurt...because it burned. I was holding a coffee, which found its way all over me. I also wanted to strangle him, because I was on the phone with somebody that was asking to get a quote sometime this week, and when I was hit I said a few choice words. It was something along the lines of, "GOD DAMNIT, SON OF A BITCH! You're going to regret that you shithead."

The person said that they would call me again about getting the quote, but you could tell by the tone that I shouldn't hold my breath.


If your wondering what it was he hit me with, that video sums it up perfectly. My brother did change one thing though. He applied the hair spray in coats throughout the day, because he thought it would add more power to it...

He was right, considering he cracked a ping pong ball on my chest, and I have a welt the size of a fist.

I picked up my brother last night, to spite his wish of taking a cab to my house.

I found that idea to be just crazy. The cabs around here are not like cabs in the city. They speak English, which is good and bad. The worst part of taking a cab is that they know the longest possible route to anywhere you want to go, and they take it.

I was waiting for him on the platform, and he sighed when he stepped off, and saw me waiting. Talk about brotherly love.

He said he was hungry, and started walking over to a hot dog cart that is always directly outside the main entrance of the station. I refer to that hot dog cart as food poisoning on wheels. I've grabbed food from it on a few occasions and the aftermath was not pleasant. Fool me once shame on you, fool me around 4 times, shame on me.

We grabbed a pizza on the way back home. On the way back he asks how the "anorexic, bulimic, roommate chick is doing." I said "fine I guess," considering I haven't heard anything about her in a few months.

He walks in the door holding the pizza, using the box to fan the scent around, and says, "Hey eats-a-lot, want some hot, delicious pizza? It will taste soooooo great! MMMmmmmm, this is soooooo tasty..." I let him go on for a little before I told him she moved out. When I did tell him, he felt like an idiot.

If he keeps this up, I think that this will be a fun summer for the both us.