"I think the reason ya still ain't married is cause you make the worst dang coffee I've ever tasted darlin" - Grampie Pollock
That among other things Grampie.
My Grampie always reminds me of my brother.
I need my brother to come home. I need him to come home, like, RIGHT NOW.
I can't handle my wonderful wacky-wonk-ball family any longer without him.
I can't survive another day not lunching on his delicious food creations.
I can't handle not having the best movies and HBO shows on demand.
I can't handle not laughing until I cry, then snort, then fall over because he is THE funniest A-hole on the entire planet.
I can't handle not having him here to "knock the teeth outta" anyone who even looks at me side ways.
I hope he is reading this right now and feeling like a HUGE GAY LORD FOCKER for not calling me back today after I left 14 sing-song-rap voice mails. WTF Nate Dogg?! I gotta rap to stay relevant betch!
I need your bad attitude around - it keeps me level.
I need you to stain my deck.
I need you to piggy back me around when I get tired and sweaty.
I need you to make me some brownies.
I need to see you dance around with Mom in the Kitchen. You make her smile in a way that no one else can.
I need for you tell me the truth.
I need for you to teach me how to drive a standard now that my left toes don't work.
I need you to "knock the teeth outta" my neighbor.
I need you to be the "caring one" because right now I just don't have it in me. Lets face it, you ARE the caring one.
I need to hear you say "WHAT THE FUCK GARY" to our wonderful father (who's idea of swearing is "Cripes Kate") when he fills the dishwasher wrong.
I need you to listen to me ramble in my super-uper fast stress voice and then JUST when I think you aren't listening anymore to say "Keep goin lips"
I need for you to fix my laptop that I gummed up with I dunno what.
I need for you to be my human GPS and to grab the wheel when I almost die - every time I drive.
I need for you to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year because Mom is threatening to have it at my house.
I need you here to tell me that Saint John is "backwards" and that no one out west even THINKS about marriage until 30.
I need you to tell Grampie to choke on his false teeth and that my coffee isn't that bad.
I need for you to sing Fleetwood Mac songs with me when I'm sad.
I need for you to come home so that I can sleep again.
It's time jerk face. Really.