Families are fucking nuts. Fact. We have no choice in who we are related to so you have to suck up the sinking feeling of ‘shit… another family reunion’ or ‘shit, when I say Happy Father’s Day I hope you have a lovely day’ in the last minute card I bought from the petrol station down the road… I am actually lying and couldn’t give a shit. My family are insane. Like mental. If you don’t shout and grab the centre stage with your screaming vocals only audible to retarded dolphins who live in the ocean, then honey… you don’t get heard! Put a group of Black family members in one room and 2 things can potentially happen… 1) simple talking turns into frenzied arguing over who ate the last chicken leg or 2) bitching about other family members commences!
I’ve got nothing but love for my fam. They do my fecking box in at the best of times… but I allow for the crazies because at the end of the day… my Ma and Pa made me (and still have strength enough to end me if I step outta line!) and my bro taught me how to play football and execute the crane kick from the Karate Kid. In fact it would seem that my brother unknowingly made me gay! Brilliant.
Every time someone mentions my older brother I automatically become massively protective of him even though he’s older, built like a tank and can clearly take care of himself. He used up all the ‘pretty’ genes as I am constantly reminded by my lovely friend how ‘smoking hot’ he is… whereas I was left with the retarded gene. (Someone grab a teeny tiny violin and get strumming damn it!) If any of my mates decided to court my brother I would probably rip their head off. It happened once when I was at school where a supposed best mate started to date my bro and I pretended I was cool about it… until I decided I actually wasn’t… so bye bye best friend you dirty skank! No biggy… you go through about 28 ‘best friends’ at school before you realise you actually have no friends coz you’re a bitch.
But I digress…
Sibling rivalry is pretty fierce too. Yes my bro in my eyes is a bit of a legend and when we get together we morph into complete cocks annoying his wife over our childlike banter… BUT it wasn’t always roses and high fiving over ‘hilarious’ chats of “remember when we nearly blew up mum’s toaster with that Pop Tart!” oh no no my friends… there were many times he would batter the shit out of me… fart on my head… and I would simply run away crying. I think he secretly wanted another brother so made me into a boy to play with, and when I complained how it actually hurt when he would use a snooker cue as a sword on me… he would get in a massive mood with me! “I’m a girl! I bruise like a peach!”
But regardless of the times he would throw me across the room into brick walls (I still have the scar from the stitches above my eyebrow!) and chase me around the house brandishing a kitchen knife… he’s got my back… and I got his. Even when he does the most ridiculous stuff I still will defend the little big shit!
So yup… families. A lot of hard work. Is it really worth it… probably! Wicked.