I am a terrible big brother.

15 12 2008

So I got this text message from my little sister earlier:

“It feels good to have the power to make you look at your phone for no reason. Who’s my bitch? That’s right, you are. Now put the phone away, I’m done.”

Pfft, I thought. If she wants to play that game, I’ll show her what’s what. 

Me: Who is this?

Sis: Your sister, buttface!

Me: Who?

Sis: *Her name*. What’s the deal? Someone steal your phone?

Me: What?

Sis: Are you smoking something?

Me: WHO IS THIS?

At which point, exactly as I’d planned, the phone rang. I looked at the ID and sure enough, it was the little sister.

Me: You’re so gullible.

Long pause.

Sis: Fucker.

It turned out that the message was actually a forward from someone else, and not just my little sister thinking she could fuck with me. Good thing, too. Otherwise I might have had to show her what’s what.





EA Sports-it’s in the mail.

7 12 2008

Starting next week, my not-so-secret liason inside the Houston Chronicle will start sending me games to play and review. I’m not so sure if I’m actually getting them before anybody else, but I like to think so. That way, I can coerce my local GameStop to pay me off in order prevent telling their customers how much a new game sucks. 

Oh God, the power. I’ll be unstoppable.