Thanksgiving and Taking

My brother came to visit for Turkey Time. We fell back into the brother-sister routine, flinging boogers at each other, dredging up hurtful memories from childhood and cloaking it in banter -- you know, normal sibling stuff.

WELL, after a day of cooking and eating, after alllll the dishes were put away and we were all comatose on the couch, I let rip a deep little well-deserved air-bass farticle.

David: That's disgusting.
Hana: David! Don't teach Patrick bad habits!
David: What? You're the one who farted!
Hana: I know, but Patrick doesn't think they're "disgusting" yet.
David: You're out of your mind.

A few days later, after David left and I was missing my baby brother, I farted again. Unbeknownst to me, Patrick was in the room.

Patrick: That's disgusting.

I looked over at him and he had the biggest, brightest smile on his face, and I'm pretty sure what he meant was "I love you." 


Reason #538

Reason #538 why I'm lucky Patrick is willing to marry me: I seriously injured my neck while air drumming/head banging to the PiƱa Colada song. My doctor said I'm not allowed to give any BJs for at least a month. When I told Patrick about it, he said, "That's okay, you weren't that good at it anyway."

I'm pretty damn sure he means bl0wj0bs, because I fucking ROCK at air drumming.