When you’re drawing on a 15-year-old’s wall, you have to be careful to not draw any penises. It’s harder to do than you’d think. Anytime I’m drawing on a wall, there is always a penis involved, because that shit is hilarious. (I’m also very, very good at drawing penises).
Instead, you should try drawing things like cupcakes and flowers, as I have done here:
You also have to be careful not to be too good at drawing, so you don’t show up the 12-year old. And then, once you’ve played down your skillz, you need to accept that the 12-year-old is way better at drawing than you are anyways, and not get your feelings hurt.
You are not allowed to call her a jerk for drawing more superior desserts than you. Calling a 12-year-old a jerk is never okay, unless they’re a legit psychopath or something. This is hard for me because I tend to think most 12-year-olds suck. Luckily this one turned 13 the other day*, so she’s off the hook.
*By “the other day” I mean “back in March when I was over in New Zealand staying with her family.”
She was a pretty awesome 12-year-old though. She taught me lots of things about anime and manga (there’s a difference, did you know that?). And she let me take over her bedroom while she slept on the floor in her sister’s.
Honestly, I’ve never* liked a 12-year-old as much as I liked this one.
*Obviously this excludes all the kids in my family, who were equally awesome at 12. Sisters, please understand that this is a given.
(But for real y’all. She’s the best.)
And then there’s the 15-year old. I mean, you can imagine, if the 12-year-old is that awesome, what additional awesomeness culminates in 3 more years of living. First of all, she let me draw on her walls. But also, she’s hilarious and smart, and a super-crazy-talented at musical things.
And – get this – she and the 12 year old? They’re like total best friends. They watch anime together and wear matching onesies and THEY GENUINELY LIKE BEING SISTERS.
I mean, at the 12-year-old’s birthday party, the 15-year-old SANG HER A SONG. It was meaningful and everything, y’all. I kept waiting for the punching to start, but then, they hugged each other, and I was all “WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? IS THIS A WEIRD NEW ZEALAND THING? SOMEONE NEEDS TO EXPLAIN WHAT’S GOING ON.”
I grew up in a family with four daughters. I’m telling you, this is some kind of freaking miracle.
My sister Kim and I shared a room for years – not just a room, a bed – and every night she would take a shower and then lay down and flip her head back and forth four or five times, literally whipping me in the face with her stupid wet hair. It was like that scene in The Passion of the Christ where they rip off Jim Caviezel’s rib skin with that scourge thing.
Man, she was such a bastard.
But here’s the cool thing about having three sisters: If you don’t like one, you’ve got two more to choose from!
Heather, for example, was an awesome older sister, despite her creepy blonde hair. She would let me stay in her room on nights when I was super-hating Kim, and she taught me all about sex and boys and how to sneak one into your bedroom window*. Not that I ever did that. But I was fully prepared, should any boys want to make out with me (or whatever) in the same bed where my scourge-haired sister was also sleeping.
*Mom and Dad, I’m sure Heather never snuck boys into her room either. She was probably just passing on knowledge she learned from Danielle. Let’s be honest, that girl was a total tramp.
Now – thankfully – Kim has short hair, and we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore. In fact, she’s turned out to be way nicer than I ever thought was possible. And smart, too. She’s a doctor, y’all.
Today she’s taking this big test to be like a super-doctor or something, and I actually want her to do well on it. See? Things change. I don’t hate* my sister anymore.
*I was always the sweet, forgiving one.
I mean, probably the only reason she was mean to me anyways was because I didn’t have an adorable accent like that 12-year-old in New Zealand. And possibly maybe because I drew penises on all of her stuff. Or because I’m not a lion.
Whatever it was, she seems to be over it now, and me and her are all “Sister friends!” and we spend lots of time trying out each other’s makeup and bitching* about our parents.
*Not you, Dad.
*Not you either, Mom.
All of this is to say:
Footnote: It occurs to me that some of you might not know my oldest sister, Danielle, and you might think I was serious about her being a tramp. First of all, who uses the word “tramp” anymore in a serious way? Obviously I was joking. Second, as I recall, she was super churchy and not trampy at all. Although I do remember her boyfriend Steve being around a lot, and the mysterious installation of a lock on her bedroom door, hmmmmm….
Anyways, she’s awesome, and Heather is awesome, and Kim is awesome (now), and so are my parents, even though we bitch about them all the time.