12-15-06

When I tell Oscar that Cindy is coming home for Christmas, he practically pops a boner in his jeans and starts asking me all sorts of questions.

“How old is your sister again?”
“Twenty four.”
“So, is she bringing home—”
“Bringing home?”
“Yeah, is she bringing anyone home?”
“Like?”
“Like a boyfriend or fiancée or something.”
“She’s only twenty-four. Ever heard of the saying you’ve got to sow your wild oats?”
“Sew?”
“Yeah, sow.”
“So no boyfriend?”
“She has a boyfriend. I don’t know if he’s coming with her or not. Why, do you think you want and tap that, because you know, you couldn’t. Not if you tried, not if you paid her. Unless you had the kind of money like someone like Phil Knight.”
“Who?”
“The CEO of Nike.”
“What?”
“Well, Cindy can be a greedy bitch sometimes, so if you had that kind of cash, I bet she’d blow you.”
“Why do you always say stuff like that?”
“To get attention. Did it work?”
“Yeah. It’s really annoying.”
“And you’re desperate. Just because you want a wankjob from my sister.”
“You know, eventually you’re going to make everyone feel so awkward around you that people are just going to stop talking to you.”
“Fuck you Oscar. You’re not invited to my house for the party anymore. So fuck you.”
“Cecilia.”
“Fuck you.”

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