Throughout the course of yesterday, be it at work, comments, emails, or AIM conversations, I was called 'bro' or 'brother' by nine different people, none of whom are related to me.
Now, I don't really think that this should make much of a difference, but I would hate for anyone to get the wrong impression, and obviously I must be misrepresenting myself.
I am white.
I am really, really white. Translucent, almost. If I take off my shirt and stand on the pier, I could be used as a lighthouse. I scare little children at haunted houses. I will drive an SUV someday and complain about 'these kids today'. I glow in the dark slightly--you could lift me on your shoulders during a hair ballad and get the same effect as a lighter. I will attend my child's soccer games and cheer far too loudly. I cross the street when I see 'those types of people' walking towards me and make sure never to walk on the bad side of town. I quote things for no apparent reason. I could have my own show on NBC.
I am the blogging world's Ross Gellar. You do not get whiter than I.
I will wear a tweed overcoat with suede patches and make really annoying whiny sounds, but only as a last resort. Please don't make me talk about dinosaurs. I will.
PS-I bet it would be really funny if a bunch of you left a comment and called me a bro. Really, it would. It will show how funny my readers really are, and then you'll get a million blog hits and people will say "oh, his sarcasm!" I bet I bet.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.