A few years ago, I made the mistake of letting my older brother ride with my wife and me to a wedding reception in our new vehicle. We ended up with a broken cupholder, a stain on the new interior, and a strained relationship. Obviously the cupholder and stain go hand-in-hand. Why he insisted on bringing a can of Coke with him to a catered wedding reception that was 30 minutes away is beyond me. And apparently he had to bring enough for everyone in the car to finish off a few. So he brought a twelve-pack of Cokes and drank three on the way there. Well, he drank two and a half. The other half is now a brown circle on the floor of our minivan, er... um, I mean... Corvette.
The cupholders in the back are attached to the seat right below where your pocket sits. And I warned him at least six times that he needed to be careful when he got out of the car because his legs would brush right over the can. (Keep in mind; this is the same drink I told him was not allowed in our new car.) I guess he doesn’t think my opinion matters, because with one swift movement of his oversized “glutes” he knocked the can down quicker than I could say, "You idiot!" So that’s how I created the rule that my older brother can not ride with me.
You see, my older brother just doesn't get it. I’m sure we’ve all met a few of these people who just don’t get it. They’re the ones that, no matter how hard they try, can not learn algebra. Or the ones that are lost on obvious sarcasm. Or the ones that don’t understand why it’s inappropriate to ask a short person if they're from the Lollipop Guild. But my older brother is the king of these people. On that same drive to the reception, he decided to bring a snack. And let me remind you that we only had to drive 30 minutes to the catered reception. So I heard paper rustling around in the back seat. Let me run you through the conversation.
Me: Hey, what is that noise? Is that a candy wrapper?
Him: I’m a little hungry. I brought a snack.
Me: I told you no food or drink in the new car, and we already talked about the twelve-pack of Cokes.
Him: It’s not a big deal, it’s not like I’m gonna spill anything.
Me: We’re 20 minutes away! Why do you need to eat between here and there?
Him: Who knows how long we’ll have to wait to eat once we get there. Let me just finish another two packages.
Me: Another two packages? What are you eating?
Me: You’re eating several packages or Oreos?!
Him: Yeah, but it’s okay. These are the lite packs. They only have 100 calories.
Me: Not if you eat six of them!
Him: Oh yeah. Okay, you want one?
It was at this point that I realized why my older brother is so overweight. It's not because he eats fatty foods or doesn't exercise. I mean, he does eat fatty foods and he does avoid exercise. But the kicker that really pushes him over the top is the fact that he can over-indulge on just about anything. I mean, who eats a box of "lite" snacks on the way to a meal? I tried explaining this to him to no avail. He's like Ratatouille's brother. Or Gus-Gus from Cinderella. Or any other overweight, aloof, cartoon mouse. My brother is a comedic Disney character.