Dear Sis,
Today you turn thirty…something. But don’t worry – you don’t look a day over 18! Must be all of that running and biking and swimming and not drinking and how are we related again?
Being the kind, compassionate sibling I am, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to remind you of my forthcoming inheritance. I mean, ha ha, the family’s not getting any younger, are they? (Are we? Are you? Is that what’s going on here? Families don’t keep secrets, Sis.)
Anyway, like I was saying. My inheritance: Babs’ photo
albums.
Oh yes. Remember when I staked my claim long, long ago? As a kid, younger than you as ever, I’d creep into Mom’s craft area (by the way, nice of you to share part of your room for that), sit on the floor, and flip through her photo albums for hours.
Even before scrapbooking was ‘in,’ Babs created masterpieces. I’ve yet to see photo albums that rival hers. Oh, except yours, of course.
And one day? They’re mine. All mine.
Don’t worry, Sis, I’ll take pictures of the pages any time you want.
To soothe any hard feelings, I got you this lovely 11 x 14-inch canvas print from Printcopia.
Well. Technically they gave it to me. For free.
But it’s the thought that counts, right?
What’s more, Printcopia said I could give one away to a lucky reader! Yeah! Doesn’t that make you happy, too, Sis? To give something to one of my blog readers?
Happy Birthday! You’re welcome.
Love,
Jul
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You heard correctly, Chipmunks – and all you have to do for a chance to win a free 11 x 14-inch canvas print like mine (but, you know, with your own pic… No you can’t use this one. Don’t be weird. Weird was so three days ago. Now we’re being satirical) from Printcopia is leave a comment below telling me a sibling rivalry story. If you don’t have any siblings, what ridiculous rules did your parents have when you were growing up?
Deadline: 8am EST, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14th.
I will announce a favorite answer at 6am EST on Monday, October 15, 2012. The winner will receive a promotional code from Printcopia via email and can order their free print online, just like I did (it’s easy peasy)! Cool beans, Printcopia! Thanks!
Go Jules Go 
Ridiculous rule: call if you are going to be late (if you are going to be late why call–then what would the point of being late be anyway)
Well now I don’t know. I liked to call my parents right before I was going to be late because of all the drugs I was about to do.
hmm, you are a funny girl–you are being funny here, right? (my mothering (some would call them smothering) instincts come out sometimes)
I can’t tell if I’m being funny. I’m too high.
put that glue away right now, young lady
Nice cake, but no ‘stache glasses on her? Where’s the love?
Hmm, you make a very good point, Dave. I’ll put her through a series of tests this weekend to see if she’s worthy.
How else would you possibly be able to be sure she’s worthy? Just knowing someone your entire life wont give you sufficient info.
Hey, hair cutting and fitted sheet folding. I had to hone some skills competing against a head cheerleader, gymnast, orchestral soloist – and that was just one sibling. But I’m not bitter. Nope. I got YOU!
And everyone looks good next to me! Especially next to my scrapbooks. Which don’t exist.
Your sister’s accomplishments are astounding. I have to say, though, that girl to her left completing the race with no lower legs outshines her. ::shrugs:: I stand by My Truths.
As to the sibling thing, how about every birthday (that The Duchess remembered), I got a cake (box cake in a casserole) AND Brother got a cake (granted, from a box–Dutch doesn’t cook).
For Brother’s birthdays, he got a pie.
Something missing from this quadratic equation?
bday/ MT=BoxCake+BrotherPie
bday/MT=BrotherPie
bday/ Brother=BrotherPie
I had to share the cake with him, too–and everybody else.
I’m still not sure I like him.
Ha! Well, L. This is an extremely effective presentation. I mean, clearly you were robbed. It says so right in the equation! (I loved this.)
It’s important to remember, I made a 14% (overall grade, not one test) in Algebra II. There may be something wrong in my proofs. -that’s a joke built in cos proofs are Geometry!
I was the “good” one. Both my younger sisters had more spirit and thereby led more interesting – and probably more painful – lives than I did growing up. They had to follow me through school and tried pretty hard not to fall into the trench I had already dug for them. But I had pity on their struggles. For example, my middle sis was scared of the dark and always thought someone might be lurking outside her window at night. So I often slept in her room with her, which I think was a lot of fun for both of us.. We’d stay up giggling under the covers telling ghost stories till late at night. Which was the perfect set-up for the next time I wanted to scare her by lurking outside her window at night. Yeah, that was me, the “good” one.
The only people I like, Louise, are between quotation marks. You’re all “good” in my book 😉
Oh boy, my brother and I fought like cats and dogs. Once he was big enough so that I couldn’t just sit on him and tickle the crap out of him. Once he was bigger, we just bickered. Once night, my parents went out and we were alone in the house. There were 2 barcolounger type chairs in the TV room, and the right one in front of the TV was the prime chair. I was sitting in it, got up to get a snack, and when I came back, he had plunked himself right down in that chair. We yelled back and forth at each other for a bit . . . I wanted the chair back, he wouldn’t give. He wanted the remote I had taken with me, but I wouldn’t give it to him while he was in “my” chair. It got heated, and eventually I decided that he could HAVE the stupid remote . . . so I threw it at him. No, not TO him . . . AT him. Actually, to be more precise . . . I threw it right at his face. Hit him in the nose. Of course, I didn’t actually INTEND to beam him with the hard plastic remote right in his face, but I was just so het up and just winged it over to him, and it just so happened that his nose caught it. Thus commenced the great cover up of ’92. Wherein I profusely apologized, got him ice to put on his face, and somehow convinced him to lie to our parents about what happened (official story: I tossed him the remote and it just happened to hit him in his face. Yeah, they weren’t really buying it, but we stuck to the story). He got a black eye and I felt horrible. But as far as I know, he never ratted me out, cuz I didn’t get grounded. Ah, sibling rivalry/love. It’s a thing of beauty, no? 😉
Oh man, Misty, I was sure you were going to say you broke his nose! But a black eye…I’ll take it. I can’t believe he never ratted you out. Aren’t you ever worried he’s keeping this in his back pocket to bust out one day, like, when he needs a loan or a ride to the airport in the middle of the night?
Well, since he only calls me if he needs something anyway . . . and I don’t really give a crap if my parents know and get upset (they are pretty much huge a**holes, anyway), then I don’t really care!
See, you opened up the Pandora’s box when you started asking about my fam, didn’t ya now? Are you happy? Huh?
Just one? Seriously. One hot summer day, my brother was really mad at me because my mother had taken me to buy a cool new sundress and she didn’t get him anything because he had been a doojie-butt. That afternoon, it was really hot. My brother decided to make a pitcher of lemonade. He announced: “I made some lemonade. It’s in the refrigerator, if you want some.” It sounded good. I stopped coloring and went into the kitchen. I found the pitcher. I poured myself a glass. I put in the ice. I raised the glass to my lips.
It wasn’t lemonade.
It was piss.
Yup. My brother had peed in a pitcher, and I drank it. All because I my mother bought me a sundress and he didn’t get his stooopid Hot Wheel.
Jules, if I don’t win, I will go crazy. I just confessed to drinking urine. Please feel free to toss in a pair of ‘stache glasses. 😉
Renzzzz, if I didn’t know you, I’d start to think you were making shiz up all in the name of winning my contests.
Not that I wouldn’t respect that on some level.
Wow.
Swear. You can call my mother. Because my bro got in huge trouble after that. FYI: He also got me to eat poop once. The bastard wrapped up a little turd in a tootsie roll wrapper. See? See what you get me to confess?
Your brother sounds kind of awesome… I’m just sayn’.
He is. Now. No, he always was. I wrote a huge lovey-dovey birthday thing to him on September 3rd on my blog if you care to check it out.
Because he’s also hot. And there’s a picture.
Just sayin. 😉
You had me with bacon– wait, you didn’t say bacon. Why didn’t you say bacon?!?!
hah, my cousin tried to get me to eat a paint ball (they do look a lot like gum balls) once.. that incident, in a round-about way ended in my mom getting winged in the head with an ice-cube, hard enough to draw blood. But immensely better than actual feces..
Something tells me if we all got together we’d have the most disturbing round of “Would You Rather?”
Are you guys free next weekend?
Renee!! GET OUT!! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Seriously. Be serious. Really? You win. You win everything! Wahhhhh
Right up until that little disclaimer dealio at the end I was thinking “Jules sister is cute and all, and happy birthday to her, but why would I want a picture of her? Even if it was reprinted on genuine, simulated artist’s canvas?” Thanks for clearing that up.
Why do you keep getting great swag to give away? What am I doing wrong that I don’t have canvas pictures, stache glasses or dildos to give to my readers? They deserve those things – HELL yes, but I don’t even get a lousy coupon for 10 cents off a Reese’s PBC. Grumble, grumble.
Hey, I didn’t put this here! I put it right at the end, where it belongs. Then I was coming up here to add my own “whaaaa, wahhhhh”s, already so eloquently expressed by Darlurine, to Renee’s comment because that can’t possibly be true.
Comment fail, yet again.
Peg! I just spit out my wine. Yes, I drink wine at 4 in the afternoon, so what?
And that’s just ONE of the things I love about you, Darlushiss. Carry on with the wine drinking.
Peggles! I don’t know why you’re not hearing from the Trojans of the world, but I suspect Hershey’s is behind it.
Speaking of behinds, did you see Ren-zay’s addendum? Oh, it didn’t stop at urine. Oh no.
Darla! I swear. And while I am not typing it out again… go back and read what I also confessed at Jules’. It is disgusting. Worse than the pee thing. My bro & I used to delight in this stuff. Warped.
y’know what, Renee–I have five brothers and I absolutely believe you.
I would not lie about something like that. But I probably shouldn’t be bragging about it either.
Happy birthday, Jules sister! Awwww…I didn’t know you had a sister, Jules. This makes all my dreams for you come true.
My brother is five years older than me so our rivalry was rather nonexistent. Although, since we were both artists in school, I can’t tell you how happy-evil I felt when our high school art teacher told me I had more talent than my brother (but less motivation…). Who cares what he said about the motivation part. I’m not motivated enough to care. My brother is a professional artist today. But I’m sure I could draw him into a corner…if only I had a shred of motivation to do so.
Wait. All of your dreams for me have come true because I have a sister? What about Second Husband? Talking Chipmunks? A Lifetime supply of cheese? Do you not know the key to my true happiness? After all we’ve been through together?
I would like to see your brother’s art. In the meantime, I will settle for nicknaming him Art.
I think what Angie is feeling here is sister-envy. I can relate a little.
How, how, how do you always have about thirty more followers than me? I can never catch up. I think I have a rivalry with you now.
Well I don’t want to brag, but I guess you could say I am roughly .015% more motivated than you.
Touche.
Don’t feel bad, Angie. I practically breast-fed you two children and you both have way more followers than I do now. Not that I even notice that stuff.
My entire CHILDHOOD felt like a bunch of stupid rules. I wasn’t allowed to have or go to sleepovers. Ever. I was the ONLY ONE of my friends who couldn’t. I feel like I missed out on EVERYTHING. The Tornado will be allowed to go to and have sleepovers WHENEVER SHE WANTS.
They also didn’t like it when I was so drunk that I threw up all over my bed in my sleep, and my dad REALLY hated when he walked into my room and I was having sex with my boyfriend. They were such squares.
Hahahaha! Awesome. I lurve me some irony.
“The Tornado will be allowed to go to and have sleepovers WHENEVER SHE WANTS.”
You’ve put that in writing now. I hope you have a soundproof rec room.
Hmmm…maybe I just won’t teach her to read. Then it won’t matter what silly things I did and didn’t put in writing…
Oh my god. Where do I begin? There are so many!
How about the time my best friend and I built a really cool tree house in our backyard, worked on it all day long, hammering nails, hanging rope for a tire swing…and my brother came home and said with a sneer, “Was there a tornado? Or a hurricane? Did all the scrap wood get blown up against that tree? Because if not, that’s the most pathetic tree house I’ve ever seen.”
Then he proceeded to build HIS tree house in the side yard and used my dad’s plywood and basically built the Taj Mahal. So there was my friend and me, sitting on a rotted piece of wood in the crook of our Charlie Brown tree, eating our pudding pops, while he was in HIS treehouse, cooking spaghettio’s on a hot plate and playing Atari.
But he was ALONE with his Atari and hot plate because of his lousy attitude. You, Darleffervescence, had a friend.
Yeah! True! So what if I had to climb into my tree fort while he took the elevator up to his…(he is an engineer now, so I suppose all the tree fort-building paid off for him) Darleffervescence is my favorite name now.
Peggles has us both spitting out our wine this evening, Darleffervescence!
She should start charging us for these nicknames, too! Day-um.
How much do I love Darleffervescence? That’s shimmerific. Especially from Peggles!
It is shimmerific! I think I might have to go by it from now on….Renee A. Schuls-Jacobson With the Extra-Long Name. You would laugh if you knew my maiden name. but you’d know why I didn’t go the hyphenated route…
Dar: One day you’ll have to spell it for me, r e a l s l o w. 😉
Darlushis, I burst out laughing when I got to the last line. Does your brother fix back doors? We’ve got a serious situation here on the ranch.
My youngest sister came up to me one day, apparently in an attempt to show affection (and probably soon after having done something that we fought over). Aww, so sweet, yes, I do want a hug. Aww, she’s going to give me a kiss on the cheek, so sweet. NO, not sweet. Little bugger nearly drew blood, biting me on the face. I had teethmarks the rest of the day, and a bruise for the rest of the week. Things like this are why I objected so strenuously to my parents having any kids after they had me!
*gasp* How old was she when she ate your face off, dare I ask?
Note: This comment may have been dramatized.
My brother is two years younger and we used to go at all the time. The best was when I was twelve (and a tomboy at heart) and we were both about the same size. I would protect the baby brother from him and we’d get into it. Usually it involved all out fist fights – we’re talking Fight Club type stuff right here! We’d shove each other into furniture, pull hair, AND didn’t pull punches.
He’s WAY bigger than me now (almost a foot) and in the Army so I try to behave myself. 😉 And he says I’m his favorite sister. Incidentally, I’m his only sister…
I’m glad you lived to tell these tales! My siblings could definitely point out some scars – I preferred to use my nails over furniture. To each her own.
I’m my brother’s favorite sister for sure. And I have another sister.
Actually, I’m not so sure. I think the family’s turning on me now that I’ve given all my love to Uncle Jesse.
And by Uncle Jesse I mean my blog.
I think the only reason that my sister became an “artist” is because I could color better than her when she was little. We’re talking about crayons here. She’s still mad about that. And, oh, by the way, my art skills only include drawing stick people. I have no idea what her issue is.
Oh man, I would seriously cash in on this now that you’re both adults. Buy really crappy greeting cards for her birthday and say you designed them and are making boatloads in royalties, etc.
🙂 that’s a great idea!
My older sis used to dress up when we kids — from a grandmotherly type serving tea to a secret agent. One day she dressed up like that a secret agent (I wrote a post about his a month or so ago). She tied me to a chair and told me she’d killed my real sister and she’d had surgery so that she looked identical to her (my real sister). How’s that for sibling rivalry.
Happy B-day to your sis and I checked on the canvas site — looks cool!
Holy shiz, Brigitte! I think I just fell in love with your sister!
My favorite story is one my mom loves to tell.
When I was about 2 1/2, my mom heard me screaming at the top of my lungs upstairs. She ran up the stairs, and followed my screams to my brother’s room.
When she stepped in the room, I dramatically threw back the covers on my brother’s bed to reveal my doll.
“Joshie took my dolly!”
“But Josh’s at school right now,” she told me calmly.
She watched my eyes squint closed, I grabbed the doll and marched out of the room.
As I passed her, she heard me mutter, “well… that didn’t work…”
Now that I’m older I frequently apologize to my brother for the many, many, many times I got him into trouble ^.^
Awwww. Jillian! So much sass for one li’l toddler. I love it!
I may or may not have a sister who knocked over the stroller at the top the apartment stairs when I was a baby… this may have caused me to roll down an entire flight of stairs (as a baby, mind you). I had been sleeping and I didn’t wake up (thank goodness for rubber bones and shag carpeting). She thought I was dead.
This same sister may have made a couch/chair/gate barricade a few months later and fallen asleep with me on the floor (inside the barricade) while she was baby-sitting. I may have rolled under the couch (again, still asleep). She may have searched frantically for two hours to try and find me after she woke up and I may have miraculously made my presence known seconds before she gave up and called mom at work (again, I was a baby).
This same sister may also have spilled boiling hot pasta water all over my left foot when I was two years old. I may still have scar tissue on that foot thirty years later.
This same sister may think that I have forgotten these things or she may think that that trip to Paris makes us even… she couldn’t be more wrong…
I play the long game sister… and you will never see what is coming.
So many good stories but this one is my fave
I am so glad to hear you say this.
I will gladly testify in your defense, my friend. I mean she clearly had it coming.
Whatever ‘it’ is. (I have faith.)
So true… so true…
I’ve read all these stories and I don’t think I can top them. Nor do I have the strength to put coherent thoughts together (did you hear I’ve been sick?? Sympathy please). The comment above mine takes the cake though. I’m surprised asoulwalker is still alive to tell the tale.
You have to have a cruel patience to make it in this life sometimes.
Rache! I’ve been worried sick. Well not sick like you’ve been sick, but sick like people are starting to give me funny looks when I tell them their avocados aren’t local.
asoulwalker takes it! We should all just give up now. “I play the long game sister…and you will never see what is coming.” After reading that, I’m pretty glad I didn’t grow up with any siblings (my much younger half brother grew up at my dad’s, me at my mom’s). Although I think I may have been my own worst rival. I definitely tried to outdance myself on many an occassion. Hey, you get creative when you’re an only child! Happy birthday to your sis!
Truth and Cake,
I am sure if you had had siblings you would have won. There is often a strength inside of you that you will never find until tested.
-Soul Walker
Rian, it sounds like everyone was a winner in your house.
Siblings are overrated. Especially when you’re the one getting the hand-me-downs.
I got nuthin’.
Except, Happy Belated Birthday to your sister. Or Belated Happy Birthday to your sister. Or Happy Birthday, (albeit) Belated to your sister.
Now you understand why it took me so long to comment. . . .
By the by, does your sister know how to wrap a fashion scarf? Do you? Does Babs? I’m commissioning a vlog.
Oh please, teach me to wrap, Hippie Cahier. Mine comes out like a garrote.
I’d share a sibling story, but most of them include teasing until tears flowed. Happy Birthday…early..like next year (since I’m so late) to your sister.
Thanks, Debbie! Let’s say she and I both ate and drank more on your behalf during her b-day celebration, so you were with us in spirit this weekend. Ahem.
I’ll ask Babs. If she’s not still hungover. Ooh. Maybe she should do a hangover cure vlog.
You knew I would be this like white on rice didn’t you. Jules, jules, jules. Always distracting me from my tortuous important studying by dangling awesome prizes in front of me. thank you for the much needed distraction You should be ashamed of yourself.
XD
Sibling rivalry eh? Hmmm. I also have an older sister, her name is sara. (I also have three long lost half siblings but that’s another story)
It’s so obvious how happy I was to be with her when we were kids:
* Apparently i can’t actually show the picture on a comment but hopefully the link works *
We were on and off horrible to each other growing up. I was always jealous of her because she was always the one who got the lead in school musicals and she had the coolest friends a.k.a. others could see them too.
One of our favourite things to do each other to inflict pain other than gas pedalling was to play chicken. Now you have to remember that this was before the glorious time wasting days of the internet when us youngins had to actually find something to do when there wasn’t good tv on.
In case you aren’t familiar with the very regal and time honoured tradition of playing chicken let me give you the basics.
First you each start on one side of the room balancing on one foot. You also must have your hands held behind your back. You would think that this would eliminate such horrors as eye poking, hair pulling and general slapping but the danger of chicken fighting is that by the time you have hopped across the room on one foot at each other you have increased momentum and lost so much of your balance that either you’ll hit your opponent so hard or you will miss entirely and hit furniture instead. And if the furniture doesn’t get you at very least you will get a stern talking to from your angry mom.
My sister usually won chicken so it’s no surprise that on one occasion i had finally had enough of being the loser. I threw myself at her before she was even ready and as she hit the ground her big toe slammed into the leg cross section of a solid wood dining room chair. I’m sure i’ve had many guilty moments since then (I was raised religious so i feel guilty about almost everything) but this was one of the worst. It was so bad that my mom brought her to emergency but by some miracle it wasn’t broken. She will never let me forget the day that I almost broke her toe.
Erin, you just gave me one of my favorite compliments ever – telling me I’m your enabler! Wow. I feel so special.
And your sister needs to man up. I once crushed my brother’s finger in the sliding door of Babs’ van. And there was a trip to the ER when he scratched my retina with the rim of a baseball cap (by hurling it in my face in that very same van).
I loved this story! 🙂
P.S. I think that our mothers went to the same bowl haircutting school
*snort*
my lord my comment was so long but i have to say that i thought i had used strikethrough on certain sentences but i obviously don’t have you tech savy -_-
I don’t have sibling rivalry really.My sister wins every time, by attrition, but luckily she’s in China most of the time,which is unlucky for the Chinese;not harsh,she’s the kind of person who carries on arguing even if you agree with her.