Portate bien, vos.

I have a brother, as many of you are aware, named Pepetonio. Somewhere along the way, and certainly without any influence from The Boy and I, he has developed into kind of a smart aleck. Recent offerings from the eleven-year-old:

Last night, after the girl down the street had rung the doorbell three times during Sunday dinner (supposedly to "see the pigeons", but we all knew who she was there to see):

"Why don't you just tell her to come back later - like when I'm on my mission."

Some time last week, to Marie:

"Marie, my abs are Ford Tough (he does indeed have a six-pack), and yours are more like a Honda. "

Livestock

I've been thinking a lot about livestock transactions lately. For instance, were you aware that exchanging one livestock unit (a horse, for example) for another livestock unit of similar species but differing gender does not qualify as a like-kind exchange? Additionally, don't ever believe someone who tries to convince you that poultry qualify as livestock, because they don't.

Alert!

I am currently battling smallpox. This is unusual and rather alarming, the man from the CDC told me. They have prescribed me a rather aggressive antibiotic, which destroys not only the bacteria within my body, but also any bacteria inside a fifteen-foot radius from me. I emanate bacterial death. Initially, my odds of survival were quite good, but they are diminishing as my roommates become increasingly more convinced that the disease will soon spread to them; they plot my demise.

A Truly Worthwhile Sunday Activity

Over the break, Laura found her boy band-laden CD collection from high school. Pepetonio and I acted quickly and courageously destroyed the goods before Laura's hopes of earning young, impressionable Bryn's respect were forever dashed.