also known as the unmarried, unpregnant, less traveled version of the guest bloggers you've seen here.
if that made you a little bit less than excited to read my post, i understand.
but if you're still here, i would like to tell you a story.
i grew up the only girl in a family with three older brothers.
if you have older brothers, you're probably nodding your head and already know what that means.
i was tortured growing up.
it started light, some simple teasing, my brother tripping me while chasing me, thus causing me to fly into the door and split my head open. it got heavier, with me being excluded from the invite to play super mario world for hours on end and my barbies being hidden in the filters of our swimming pool.
but events that transpired when i was in second grade made me put my foot down once and for all.
my brothers had finally included me in an epic game of cops 'n robbers. granted, they were all the robbers and i was the only cop. but i was happy just to be involved.
i was chasing my brother joe (as seen in the above picture- doesn't he look guilty?) through the downstairs parlor when he ran upstairs and disappeared from view. not willing to let him escape, and wanting to establish myself as a ruthless cop to be reckoned with, i chased him up and rounded the corner into my parents' room.
that's when it happened.
my brother karate-kicked me in the face. on purpose.
as i screamed and bled all over my parents room, my brother got away with it.
for a week i bitterly stewed it over, hatching the perfect plan for revenge in my mind, until saturday night it was ready to put into play. late that night,after my brothers were sleeping, i crept into my father's office and sat down at the desk. with a handy screwdriver, i carved the name "sean" into the desk, utilizing my excellent penmanship to imitate his exact handwriting. then i waited.
the next morning, the volcano known as Parent Fury erupted. sean denied he had ruined my father's desk, thus forcing my parents to assume it was one of my other brothers trying to get him into trouble. they were all sentenced to hard time- the entire sunday after church spent in their rooms with no breakfast, until the perp came forward and admitted what he had done. my brothers were pitted against each other, fighting in their room all day, sure that one of them had been evil enough to do this.
and where was i, you ask? sitting at a quiet, delightful sunday brunch with my parents, eating all of the homemade egg muffin sandwiches and bacon my body could handle and enjoying their undivided attention. savory, savory victory.
and that, friends, is the story of how i learned at an early age that revenge is best served as a hot egg mcmuffin.