It's the weekend. I'm geared up for the 4 p.m. game today (a community of Syracuse and Louisville fans), so I stayed home last night. So glad I did, too, because my sisters, my mother and I chatted online for quite a while. I'm saving their messages as evidence in court when they kill me. Of course, I won't be able to defend myself so I'm relying on my father, Butch (son of a Butch, after all), to represent me in court if Val promises him a few free beers at Chubby's and a couple of her wings. I was warned not to post the photos they sent me. Whoops. My bad.
You see, last night, my sisters had a Face-Off of hair styles. Dumb. Dumb move. Not when your brother is Bryan. Why would you send him such photos when you know he loves to write?
Now, if they were wise, they would play the Free To Be You and Me video above to soften the blows. After all, we are a community of siblings, raised by a Sue, who made us sing these songs at nursing homes where people smell like urine. Of course, Cynde was too good for us then because she was making out with her Jack Wagner posters on her waterbed and didn't have time for her loving younger brother and sister. It is interesting that her hair here (say that ten times fast) sort of looks like Scott Baio's in the Joanie Loves Chachi phase of his career.
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