I texted my Uncle Scott at work to tell him that I need help. He texted me back that he's greatly relieved that I'm finally willing to admit I have a problem and that the first step in getting better is acknowledging that one has a problem. Uncle Scott can't hit me because I'm still bruised from my physical therapy massage, so I will say STFU!!! I DON'T need help for myself. DUH! I need it for my brother.
My brother's girlfriend just broke up with him. He's devastated. It doesn't matter to him that the relationship was going absolutely nowhere fast and was doomed from the start. His IQ is probably twice what hers is, and his is nothing about which to boast. He's going to a major university next year. She graduated after summer school (after four years of high school, not early) and is on a wait list for some school that's supposed to teach her to do nails. She wasn't even accepted outright to nail school! She's over eighteen. He's sixteen-and-one-half, as am I. (DUH! We're twins!) That means if the two of them were to boink -- which I'm not advocating -- it would make her a sex offender, hardly better than the King of All Sex Offenders, Warren Jeffs himself. And my brother is sad that this girl wants him out of her life. Go figure.
Still, he's my younger brother (by about thirty seconds), and it is my duty to cheer him up when he is heartbroken. He would do the same for me. Actually, he'd probably beat up the guy who broke up with me, or at least arrange to have him beaned in baseball practice. The girl is not a baseball player. Furthermore, she's five-seven and probably weighs one- hundred-twenty-five at least. I'm almost five-one, and my weight is up to a whopping eighty-three following my pneumonia and appendectomy. I wouldn't stand a chance against my brother's former girlfriend in a physical battle even if I wanted to settle the score in that way, which I don't.
The breakup didn't occur in person. My brother is at some sort of baseball camp that involves traveling around the western states. The former woman of his dreams texted him with the news. He then went out and walked twelve batters, not to mention the three he hit, in last night's game. I told him that at least his part of the game was a no-hitter (no batter can hit the ball if the pitcher either hits him first or throws the ball totally out of his reach) and that it was a compliment that the manager left him in long enough to do so much damage. My dad texted me to tell me that my comments intended to console my brother were pejorative. Anyway, he won't have another start for probably three days. I must get him out of this slump before he takes the mound again.
My Aunt Jillian's brother Timmy, who is typically full of ideas (none of them good, by the way), thinks we should get the girl to take my brother back. He wanted to call that radio program host Delilah and pretend to be my brother. He was going to pour his heart out to Delilah and dedicate some really charged song to the girl. I told Timmy it would never work. Besides, I'm pretty sure those calls on Delilah are fakes anyway. No one in real life could or would call in saying such sappy stuff.
What my brother needs is a new girl, preferably one with an IQ in the average range. It would be best if the girl were based somewhere in the southern California area, since my borther's university of attendance is in that region. If anyone has any good candidates to recommend, please give me a heads up.
The doctor who gave me difficulty is now getting what he deserves. A nurse overheard my earlier conversation with him. He is now being called "Warren Jeffs" by most of the hospital staff. At times Karma can be a female dog.