wwad
in any awkward situation i find myself in, i tend to ask myself, "what would arthur do?"
arthur is my 23 year old brother with a suspected undiagnosed case of aspergers. he looks perpetually 15, a blessing for him really. i think his secret is never going outside during the day and keeping his hands well lubricated from constant online computer gaming and masturbating.
because if folks knew how old he really was, they might react in strange horror. i mean, for god's sake, emma stone, rihanna, and sasha grey are his age, AND THEY'RE HOT. michael cera's about the same age too, and although he might not be the world's sexiest film star, he could pass for like, at least 20 on a good day.
arthur carries his nintendo 3ds with him everywhere. it's a neat little toy, but it's not exactly physically or socially appropriate to bust it out during, let's say, a hike. or even a funeral. which he has done. on several occasions.
things that he still lets my mother do: dress him. always a poor idea. wearing what your fob mom thinks is cool always equals NO CHICKS EVER. arthur, YOU ARE NEVER GETTING LAID as long as you wear tevas and shorts. TEVAS, for god's sake. maybe if you could grow a beard and throw away the 3ds and hit the bong, you could keep the tevas and get a groovy hippie chick. but no. it's back to jerking off to anime porn (hentai, for those of you who didn't know!) for you.
my mother still cuts his hair. very short. kinda like a really weird military crop, except all the hair is the same length like flowbee style. which makes it very apparent that my brother and i have comically egg-shaped heads. that's why i'm never ever ever going to go bald a la v for vendetta. we're just not that cute.
and obviously, he still lives at home. he habitates in what i like to call "the pile." his room consists of literally four piles:
1) his closet -- which is actually an extension of my mom's closet... and let me explain for a second about my mother. she has a really awful hoarding habit resulting from extreme consumer deprivation during her childhood in communist china. it's something she should probably see a therapist for, but asians! whatever! who needs therapy when you can just be bat shit crazy! the closet is literally filled with boxes of linens from my parents' wedding 28 years ago, oversized aloha shirts from the 80s that my brother never "grew into," winter clothes (that never see the light of day in hawaii), and about 10 pounds of scraps of aging christmas wrapping paper. the closet kinda overflows into a dark corner of the room and that pile consists of broken hand-me-down toys, mite-ridden stuffed animals, AND HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENTS from our childhood that she just doesn't have the heart to throw away.
2) his twin sized bed, which actually has a hole chewed through one side from a RAT. A FUCKING RAT. OMG SO GROSS WHYYYYY
3) on one side of his bed lies his gamer pile, which consists of pc gamer mags, various video game boxes from the last 15 years, gadgets and doodads that he thought were cool at one point, and various page tear-outs of semi-clothed and/or naked ladies.
4) and on the other side of his rat bed resides a tall pile of crumpled up tissues which my mom scolds my brother for "blowing his nose too much." yeah right, mom.
i always assumed poor arthur had more psychological problems than i do. although now, i consider that the fact that he can stand living with my parents might actually mean that he's more adept at handling the stresses of extreme claustrophobia and "parental badgering." or he might just be better at ignoring everything on this physical earth.
back to "what would arthur do?" once, my brother punked me. he punked me real good. i was young and foolish. my brother and i shared a bathroom at the time. i heard the water running. i assumed he was taking a shower. and like any woman who needs to share a bathroom, i just had to put on some more makeup on my cakeface. lo and behold, when i opened the door, there he was, just laying in the tub, taking a bath (what kind of dudes take baths?), and plainly jerking off. second one: i gaped in horror. second two: i screamed, "oh shit!" second three: i quickly slammed the door back shut.
of course it's always an awkward moment when you walk in on someone you never wanted to see tugging away in ecstacy like there's no tomorrow. and the combination of emotions you feel! horror, hatred, disgust, shame, fear, regret, all wrapped in one awful shit-flavored burrito of self-loathing. it makes you want to crawl into a tiny pit and die and never be reincarnated because of the off-chance that you might remember that horrible moment in your past life. but as i was in second four: mentally analyzing the whole situation and how to confront my brother about the whole thing, that's when it happened.
he started laughing.
laughing.
it started off low and slow, and then continued to grow in intensity.
heh..hehe, ha...ha..haha..hahaha...HA..HAH...AHAHAHA...AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!
how could he laugh at me? suddenly, the joke was on me. he wasn't ashamed. we didn't need no "talk." he thought it was hilarious. it was the only way to flip the shame and put it all on me. it was, in my now tarnished memories, my own damn fault.
god arthur, you fucking asshole. you goddamn fucking asshole.
in that instant alone, he assumed the throne. he became the king of awkward situations.
just remember, if all else fails, arthur would bust out his nintendo 3ds and laugh.
arthur is my 23 year old brother with a suspected undiagnosed case of aspergers. he looks perpetually 15, a blessing for him really. i think his secret is never going outside during the day and keeping his hands well lubricated from constant online computer gaming and masturbating.
because if folks knew how old he really was, they might react in strange horror. i mean, for god's sake, emma stone, rihanna, and sasha grey are his age, AND THEY'RE HOT. michael cera's about the same age too, and although he might not be the world's sexiest film star, he could pass for like, at least 20 on a good day.
arthur carries his nintendo 3ds with him everywhere. it's a neat little toy, but it's not exactly physically or socially appropriate to bust it out during, let's say, a hike. or even a funeral. which he has done. on several occasions.
things that he still lets my mother do: dress him. always a poor idea. wearing what your fob mom thinks is cool always equals NO CHICKS EVER. arthur, YOU ARE NEVER GETTING LAID as long as you wear tevas and shorts. TEVAS, for god's sake. maybe if you could grow a beard and throw away the 3ds and hit the bong, you could keep the tevas and get a groovy hippie chick. but no. it's back to jerking off to anime porn (hentai, for those of you who didn't know!) for you.
my mother still cuts his hair. very short. kinda like a really weird military crop, except all the hair is the same length like flowbee style. which makes it very apparent that my brother and i have comically egg-shaped heads. that's why i'm never ever ever going to go bald a la v for vendetta. we're just not that cute.
and obviously, he still lives at home. he habitates in what i like to call "the pile." his room consists of literally four piles:
1) his closet -- which is actually an extension of my mom's closet... and let me explain for a second about my mother. she has a really awful hoarding habit resulting from extreme consumer deprivation during her childhood in communist china. it's something she should probably see a therapist for, but asians! whatever! who needs therapy when you can just be bat shit crazy! the closet is literally filled with boxes of linens from my parents' wedding 28 years ago, oversized aloha shirts from the 80s that my brother never "grew into," winter clothes (that never see the light of day in hawaii), and about 10 pounds of scraps of aging christmas wrapping paper. the closet kinda overflows into a dark corner of the room and that pile consists of broken hand-me-down toys, mite-ridden stuffed animals, AND HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENTS from our childhood that she just doesn't have the heart to throw away.
2) his twin sized bed, which actually has a hole chewed through one side from a RAT. A FUCKING RAT. OMG SO GROSS WHYYYYY
3) on one side of his bed lies his gamer pile, which consists of pc gamer mags, various video game boxes from the last 15 years, gadgets and doodads that he thought were cool at one point, and various page tear-outs of semi-clothed and/or naked ladies.
4) and on the other side of his rat bed resides a tall pile of crumpled up tissues which my mom scolds my brother for "blowing his nose too much." yeah right, mom.
i always assumed poor arthur had more psychological problems than i do. although now, i consider that the fact that he can stand living with my parents might actually mean that he's more adept at handling the stresses of extreme claustrophobia and "parental badgering." or he might just be better at ignoring everything on this physical earth.
back to "what would arthur do?" once, my brother punked me. he punked me real good. i was young and foolish. my brother and i shared a bathroom at the time. i heard the water running. i assumed he was taking a shower. and like any woman who needs to share a bathroom, i just had to put on some more makeup on my cakeface. lo and behold, when i opened the door, there he was, just laying in the tub, taking a bath (what kind of dudes take baths?), and plainly jerking off. second one: i gaped in horror. second two: i screamed, "oh shit!" second three: i quickly slammed the door back shut.
of course it's always an awkward moment when you walk in on someone you never wanted to see tugging away in ecstacy like there's no tomorrow. and the combination of emotions you feel! horror, hatred, disgust, shame, fear, regret, all wrapped in one awful shit-flavored burrito of self-loathing. it makes you want to crawl into a tiny pit and die and never be reincarnated because of the off-chance that you might remember that horrible moment in your past life. but as i was in second four: mentally analyzing the whole situation and how to confront my brother about the whole thing, that's when it happened.
he started laughing.
laughing.
it started off low and slow, and then continued to grow in intensity.
heh..hehe, ha...ha..haha..hahaha...HA..HAH...AHAHAHA...AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!
how could he laugh at me? suddenly, the joke was on me. he wasn't ashamed. we didn't need no "talk." he thought it was hilarious. it was the only way to flip the shame and put it all on me. it was, in my now tarnished memories, my own damn fault.
god arthur, you fucking asshole. you goddamn fucking asshole.
in that instant alone, he assumed the throne. he became the king of awkward situations.
just remember, if all else fails, arthur would bust out his nintendo 3ds and laugh.