The Big C Part II

My sister called me tonite, letting me know that while she thought the post was funny, she didn’t like being painted as being miserable. “I’ve got cancer, but I’m happy goddammit!” were here exact words. She reminded me that she is entertaining the company of several suitors at the moment, which a big brother is not crazy about hearing the details of. Whenever she bring up these new dudes and sees me cringing she likes to point out how much money they make; I suppose she thinks that as long as Big Bro is impressed with the big bucks these dudes are making, I can see their dating as some sort of business transaction and can remove any passion from the relationship in my own mind. Of course as I’m typing this I realize it sounds as if she thinks I’m only okay with her dating rich dudes as long as I can feel like it’s some sort of prostitution. Hmm.

Well, that’ll be another phone call tonite. Which of course I can no longer duck. Used to be I’d see her name pop up on the phone, and say okay I’ll call back later or whatever. I tried this earlier today, after which I quickly got the text “guess what jackass, you have to answer the phone when a cancer survivor calls.” So I guess I can’t screen her calls anymore. Ah well.

She also suggested that I use her cancer to get girls at the bar. I don’t know how this works. “Hey, how you doing, I’m Xmas...listen, my sister has skin cancer, so why don’t you grab your stuff and we’ll get outta here...I’ll grab some fuckrubbers...atttagirl...” Course it just dawned on me – you know you’re in a loooooooooong drought with the ladies when your sister gets cancer and the first thing she thinks is “hey, maybe this’ll finally get my brother laid.” Christ.