illWill Christmastime

I just got off the phone with my little brother illWill; incredibly, I don't think we've seen each other in a year, since THIS SEXY PHOTO. (that's illWill in the front)

When I think about illWill and Christmas, I think of two things: him officially putting the kibosh on Santa Claus:

My last "real" Christmas came when I was 12 - my little brother had just been born, and the fact that he was 0 and my sister was 7 meant that the days of expecting a bunch of presents sitting under the tree for my older brother and I were over. As a matter of fact, I remember my mother getting me out of bed to help her put the younger kids' gifts together and under the tree. Once you're on the Put-the-Goddam-Presents-Under-the-Tree Team, the magic and mystery of Santa Claus is pretty much dead, I'd say. The honeymoon is over. Not that I believed in Santa until then, but becoming an age where your parents actually put you to work in that field is a real milestone. What the fuck, I remember thinking, am I a kid has-been? What's next - I gotta go get a job in the morning? Should I join the fucking Lion's Club? Part of "growing up", I reckon. I do remember the last two gifts I got from "Santa" before I got completely cut off: a hairbrush and a bottle of English Leather cologne. Great. Nothing like waking up on Christmas morning with a message from your parents: "Your hair sucks, and you fucking reek." Nice.

Thanks, asshole!!!!

... and two decades later when he graciously took over for me in the "Who is Going to Make Sistatime!'s Hair Fall Out Fastest?" Olympics, ca. 2006:

One good thing was that for the second year in a row, Xmastime did not win the “Brother Who Pisses off Our Sister by Being a Dumb Drunk Fuck Award.” Little bro defended his title nicely, following up last year’s performance with breaking a window, covering the driveway in puke, shattering his own glasses on the porch and, best of all, being completely baffled the next morning by our sister peeling the paint off the walls with her screaming at him. God Bless him. All this while yours truly, after years of holding the title and there being talk of having my number retired, sat quietly on the couch in a nicely pressed white shirt, sipping beer while chatting amiably. Little Bro, a lesson for next year: when you're at a get together and about to puke, just lift your shirt away from your chest, lower your head, turn towards your shoulder and let the puke fly, then cover back up. Camon brah! This is remedial shit I'm teaching here!

He did have the best thought of the weekend, though. After we had all had a few cocktails, a group of us got into a spirited debate about something. Little bro decides to jump in and disagrees with me. I say something and then he suddenly jumps up and announces A-HA!!! He wins the argument!...turns out I had used the word “amalgamation.” And, since he didn’t know what the word meant, that completely discredited everything I had said up to that moment. Get that? It’s not even as if he had busted me trying to be showy with a word I myself did not understand, it’s that HE didn’t know it, so TA-DA!! Everything I had said up to that point had no substance, he wins, let’s hit the clubs and drink us up some bub! Unreal. Poor dude, was ecstatic, actually looked around the room for a high five. Sigh.

Awesome. Events separated by 22 years, dude still brings home the memories when it comes to Christmas. I'm looking forward to next week; to be honest, I'm depressed it's been so long for the two of us. Like Op says, just thinking about that fucker brings a smile to my face. Happy almost Xmas, illWill!