Reasons Ben Will Never Date My Sister

How many reasons? Oh let me count the ways...

Thursday, March 24, 2005

13. Stinkiness

Ben says that I am mean to him. He doesn't enumerate any specific instances, but still insists that I am mean. I am not mean spirited, but constructively critical. I want to help Ben, and I think that I know what women like/do not like. I think that most women will agree with me that:


Women generally do not like stinkiness in any form, but avoidable stinkiness is particularly unattractive.

Most men--those that have the sense that God gave a goat--have an inkling of this fact and try to supress their inherent stinkiness. Or--if the man is such a moron that he doesn't realize that in this day and age that there are products available to supress stinkiness, a suggestion from HIS GIRLFRIEND should be enough to encourage him to wear deodorant. A suggestion from his sister-in-law should merit immedite action--after all people, I am (theoretically) staying out of what would be Ben's funk zone. If the funk zone has widened to the point at which it is penetrating my personal zone, it's time to do something about taming that funk.

Ben will probably be angry with me for bringing up his hygiene again, but MY GOD, it STILL bears mentioning.

In case you need it spelled out for you, I'm talking about Ben's stinky B.O.

As you may have read on Ben's blog, he spent his Spring Break with us last week, working at Adam's office.

As usual, he showed up here without any toiletries. So--we had to go to Target and buy him some toiletries--shampoo, soap, shower puff, toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and shaving cream. And socks. NO DEODORANT. This problem was not immediately obvious to me for some reason. I just assumed that Ben had brought some with him. Looking back with 20/20 vision now, I don't know why I would assume he would bring deodorant with him when he couldn't remember to bring any other products.

On Monday night, Ben left the shirt that he had been wearing all day Monday on top of the washing machine in the laundry room. I initially thought that it stunk so bad that Ben was silently asking me to wash it for him. Which I did. Come to find out that he had taken it off while ironing the one shirt that he bothered to iron the entire time he was here. The other days he borrowed shirts from Adam, who is regretting this fact now, by the way.

I casually mentioned to Ben that I washed his shirt because it was so stinky. No reaction. I mentioned to Adam that Ben's shirt was really stinky and that he might want to talk to him about using a different deodorant, etc. I just assumed he was using a deodorant that wasn't strong enough. Hey--it happens.

Now come to find out that Ben does not wear deodorant. Period. End of discussion. No! NO! NOOOOOOO!!!! Come on! IT'S AN EASY FIX! You are a 27 year old man. Chronologically an adult. Deodorant is easily accessible. They probably even carry it at the Indian beer store. The use of underarm deodorant has, in our society, become basic daily hygiene. It's the American way. What is your point? Why are you making a stand on this? Are you embracing your stinkiness? If so--don't expect anyone else to want to wallow in your "Ben-ness".

The mystery is--has Ben ever worn deodorant? If so--why did he stop? Why had I never noticed his funky B.O. before? My theory is that his extreme foot stench usually drowns out his B.O. Believe me, you don't want to be trapped in a car with Ben's feet, even on a short ride, especially if you've just eaten lunch. Make sure you can pull over quickly. He also usually has a cloud of cigarette smell lingering over him--perhaps this acts in concert with the feet?

I also have to mention that I think the fact that he won't wear deodorant makes it even grosser that he wears the same clothes for days in a row. And believe me, the stains are gross enough. This trip he showed up in a t-shirt with (1) paint stains (2) holes and (3) stains of unidentified origin. This is what he wanted to wear to dinner. In public! I think that wearing clothes in hideous condition may be a strategy on his part to get new clothes, because Adam makes Ben borrow clothes from him, which Ben conveniently "forgets" to return.

Ben managed to get out of here with one of Adam's knit shirts, a pair of khaki shorts, one of Adam's belts (Ben forgot to bring his own, of course) and two of my guest bathroom towels. He did, however, leave his stinky-ass shoes under my desk. And one sock. He also took all of the toiletries Adam bought for him home instead of leaving them here, so that we will have to go through the same thing all over again next time. He was wearing one of Adam's shirts when he was leaving, but Adam made him give that one back.

And while he was here, he complained that it was making him ANGRY that Adam and I were being too affectionate towards each other. I told him that it makes me angry when I sit down in my office chair and it's full of the toenails that he's been picking off of his toes. He doesn't even have the decency to put his disgusting toenails in the trashcan, and he's left me with the mental picture of him sitting in my office chair picking at his toes. There are few things that make me angrier than finding toenail leavings. Consider yourself warned.

Anyway, it seems that Ben wants to stand firm on his not wearing deodorant platform, which is a mystery to me, and one that he himself can not explain. Stinkiness, I believe, is not an advantage in one's personal or professional life, and should be avoided if possible.


Ben--it's time to stop being a stinky stubborn mule and start acting like an adult. We don't live in the pre-industrial era. You don't do hard physical labor all day. You don't have to stink. I am perplexed as to why you have made this choice. Avoidable stink is embarassing to the stink producer, tiresome to the stink producer's girlfriend and family, and does not impress employers. There is such an easy way to fix this problem that it is ridiculous that you would let it continue on this way.

Please buy some deodorant and use it. And stop picking your toes in my chair.

Or here's what you'll be getting for Christmas:

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

12. Krazee Eyez Killa

Krazee Eyez Killa Posted by Hello
I think that this picture says a lot about Ben.
It says that Ben tried to chad our engagement pictures.
Nevermind that it would be strange to have an extra person in your engagement pictures, even if that person is not wearing a tinfoil helmet and making crazy eyes.
There's Ben in the back, wearing a helmet made of tinfoil that says "FUCK YOU MASONS" on it. He made the helmet himself. Surprise. He had worn this helmet earlier in the day to terrorize fast-food workers.
Ben was offended that we wanted some engagement pictures without him in them...

11. Now he's opened the door...

I knew that I was going to marry Adam on the first day that I met him.

Adam thinks this is a load of crap, but it's true. It was the first day of Law School orientation. I was sitting next to him in some presentation about how to use the library. A little voice in my head told me "you're going to marry him". That freaked me out. I told the little voice that it was crazy--I didn't even know anything about this guy. I really thought the voice was crazy after some of his comments in class. But--despite some initial reservations, true love prevailed. The crazy voice was right!

To cut to the chase--a year and a half after our first meeting--Adam made his move and the rest is history. Ben takes credit for this, by the way. Adam and I hooked up at Adam's 30th birthday party, which Ben did not attend because his crappy Suzuki broke down on the way to Houston. Hooray! Ben's presence would have definitely been a mood killer.

OK--so skip ahead another year and a half--we're living together, making Adam less gay by leaps and bounds. The Miata had already died in Tropical Storm Allison, so he only had two strikes against him at that point--the pink couch and the two cats. I quickly dispatched of the pink cushions, and living together meant that the cat-to-person ratio was returned to balance as well. I wouldn't have bothered to move in with him if I didn't want to marry him and if I didn't think he had some desire to marry me.

So--we started discussing marriage. When it got to be November, we had to get serious. I had to know if I needed to start planning. And Adam had to get me an engagement ring, because I wasn't getting married without having one first. To clarify--Adam did buy the engagement ring off of Ebay, however, it was not someone else's cast-off. I don't care that the ring came from Ebay--I just didn't want a second hand ring from a broken engagement. That would be unlucky. We had the matching band made at a jewelry store here in town. I bought Adam's band at the same store.

We did discuss the fact that getting married before the end of the year would save us on our taxes. I do enjoy teasing Adam about having a less than romantic motivation for marrying me. However--that was my choice. I could have insisted that we wait, and Adam could have gone along with my decision or not married me, but I didn't need or want to wait. I was never one of those little girls that dreams about having a huge wedding and plans out the day to the last detail. I don't know why--I just wasn't. And quite honestly--I think that having a limited time period in which to plan the wedding ultimately ended up relieving a lot of stress that I've seen several of my friends go through--there simply wasn't time for it.

I knew that I did want a wedding. Preferably small. Adam wanted really small--he wanted to go down to the courthouse and just get married. Just the two of us. But--I had already been threatened by my mother that she would never forgive me if we did that. I didn't want that anyway--I did want family and friends there.

As far as picking the location for our wedding, it was happy coincidence that Adam had a conference in New Orleans. I personally love New Orleans and have really enjoyed the time that I have spent there. Adam and I went on our first vacation as a couple to New Orleans. My family always enjoys spending time in New Orleans. New Orleans is fun. New Orleans has a cool culture. New Orleans has awesome food. Invariably, something weird happens in New Orleans and there's a new story to tell. If you're lucky, it's a story you can hold over someone's head and whip their ass about for years to come. What's better than that?

Our wedding was great, and has given us many, many stories to tell. We got married here. The minister decided that our civil ceremony was too short, so he threw in a couple of poems that we hadn't requested to lengthen it a bit. Which was confusing for us. He was a little bit confused on what our names are. We had our reception at Emeril's. I think it was the best meal I've ever eaten, and I think that everyone had a great time.

Honestly--if I had it all to do over again, I wouldn't do it any other way.

Even this next part.

Ben was the best man at our wedding and asked repeatedly if he could give a toast.

I find it strange that Ben is now complaining about our having the wedding in New Orleans. Without the drive from Austin to New Orleans, Ben wouldn't have had any material for the toast that he gave at our reception.

And quite a toast it was. I have heard some bad toasts in my day. One of the worst ones I've ever heard contained the phrase "we've seen you both go to so many bars and through so many people". But hey--at least that toast was about the happy couple.

Ben's toast likened marriage to (1) driving your car into a ditch and getting stuck (2) being a smart-ass to the tow truck driver who stops to rescue you from the ditch, causing the tow truck driver to increase the price of the tow to all of the money you have and (3) peeing on a Christmas tree stand and getting yelled at by the proprietor of said stand. I can't remember if locking your keys in your car and then smarting off to the pop-a-lock guy was included. Basically, he was doing his shtick because he had a captive audience. I think he said something like "but anyway, congratulations" at the end to "bring it back around".

Later on that night, after the reception was over and after spending many more hours drinking in some dive in the French Quarter, Ben had the absence of forethought to ask my father what he thought about his toast. This led to my father yelling at Ben in the middle of the street about how much he thought his toast sucked. Adam and I returned to our hotel soon after this display, but Ben--realizing how much my father disliked him--decided that they should hang out until the wee hours of the morning so that my dad could whip his ass some more. My dad was still pissed the next morning. In fact, I think he still is.

I guess I should be thankful that something did happen to Ben on his trip that he could incorporate into his toast. Otherwise my wedding toast may have included quips about " gay deaf mutes" or "breeding down" or "chloroform and handcuffs".

Monday, September 13, 2004

10. His Blog has Jumped the Shark.

Yep--Jumped the Shark.

I doubt that I'm the only one who has noticed.


When he figured out that he could insert pictures with his own text superimposed onto them into his Blog.

Now it's more about making photoshopped pictures than writing his usual questionable content.

Having attended the same Don Williams concert myself, as well as several other memorable concerts at the horse track, I know that there was a literal font of blogging material available to Ben at that concert. Maybe not as much as the Charlie Robison concert, but still--there was quite A LOT.

You really can't beat the horse track for a cheap concert and plenty of people watching. It's likely that half of the people in attendance have shown up on TV with a giant black censored box obscuring some portion of their body or at least on the internet without being censored.

The same assholes show up at every one of these concerts. If you've ever been to any concert, you know them--the ones who are seated directly behind you, clapping off beat, talking loudly during the performance, singing the wrong lyrics and screaming out the incorrect titles to songs in the hopes that the band will veer from the songlist in order to shut them up. They were all there that night.

Some of the outfits that people put together for these events are quite impressive, as well as wholly inappropriate. For God's sakes--there was a woman in a full body catsuit sitting on our row! At the Don Williams concert! Outside! In the Houston heat! Maybe she was a few weeks early for the KISS tribute band that's scheduled to play the horse track in October.

I think that writing about Ben's blog jumping the shark has caused this blog to jump the shark too. But that's OK. It just means that you all have photoshopped pictures to look forward to in upcoming blogs....

And I have some good ones....

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

9. He's an Intolerable Jackass, and it's Tiresome.

Honestly, there are many reasons that Ben is an Intolerable Jackass, but here's the lesson for the day:

Ben has been whining, bitching and moaning for over a year that my husband never invites him to go to the baseball game.

Adam gets a limited number of tickets each season. I actually really enjoy going to the games. It's an ass-whip to drive four hours each way, but I enjoy the game, and I enjoy visiting with my in-laws.

As you might have noticed from his blog, Adam really, really, really likes the Texas Rangers. How much does he like the Rangers? Apparently he likes me and the Rangers the same amount. I thought he liked them more than me, but it turns out that we're on two different lists, and we're equally ranked. What a relief.

Adam gave Ben a ticket (my ticket) for last night's game.

Ben didn't show up.

Ben didn't call.

This is pretty typical, yet somehow always disappointing.

When Adam finally spoke to Ben, Ben said that he couldn't come to the game because there was something wrong with the water in his apartment, and he couldn't take a shower.

I imagine this may be some sort of non-payment problem, again.

Ummmmm--The game is outside, so it's already a hot and sweaty sort of event.

It's not terribly likely that Ben would have put on clean clothes, anyway, even if he did shower.

So, what's the problem there?

Then Ben claimed that he didn't have gas money. Apparently, this was something he failed to remember/mention when Adam gave him the ticket.

Perhaps in the interim between receiving the ticket and leaving for the game, he found a neon sign to buy, or maybe a snake, and that used up his travelin' money. He did lose his job at Double Dave's, soon to be "Rockin' Tomato's". That was, of course, through no fault of his own.

At that point, Adam hung up on Ben, so he didn't get to hear the rest of the litany of lame excuses as to why Ben can't be where he says he's going to be, as well as why he can't call to say he's not going to be there.

But I'm sure there are many more excuses to come. I just hope they're more creative than the usual lot.

Sunday, March 28, 2004

8. He eats all (but one) of the pickles and all (but two) of the powdered sugar do-nuts. No--he's not trying to leave some in case you wanted one.

Ben likes to eat pickles. Ben likes to eat Adam's pickles when he is at our house. On a previous trip to our house, Ben ate all but one of the pickles in the jar. When this was pointed out to him, he flew into a rage.

Ben has not yet learned that flying into a rage encourages the people around you (especially if those people are your brothers) to whip your ass about the thing you are flying into the rage about even more.

Ben was mad because he said that it sounded like he opened a new jar of pickles and ate all of the pickles but the one. He was offended at what he considered to be the accusation of obsessively gluttonous pickle-eating.

What? Do you think that I'd eat all but one of the pickles in the jar, like that's something to do... Yeah I ate all but one of the pickles! I'm Rick James, bitch!

On Ben's last visit, I bought some powdered sugar do-nuts for breakfast. Adam really likes them. (I had to go to the store anyway to buy food for Ben's dog, since he "forgot" to bring food for her. Ben tends to forget a lot of things on his trips to see us. More than one pair of socks. A toothbrush. Any and all toiletries.)

We had the do-nuts for breakfast one morning, and there were quite a few left over. The next morning, I got up late, but still before anyone else, and made myself a bagel. While in the kitchen, I noticed that there were only one or two do-nuts left in the bag. Hmmmm, I thought. Maybe I should buy some more.

Ben came out of the "faggoty" guest room soon after. He asked if Adam had eaten all of the do-nuts. I said that there were a couple left. I think Ben then ate the remaining do-nuts.

He then told me that he had gotten up early that morning and eaten all but a few of the do-nuts. He purposely asked me if Adam had eaten all of the do-nuts so that I would think that he, and not Ben, had eaten almost all of them. Which I wouldn't care about anyway, so WTF?

But now I see a pattern....

7. He looks like the kind of person that crazy magazine guys assume have a stash of weed and/or coke.

As Ben noted in his post about the crazy magazine guy, we live in one of the nicer neighborhoods in Houston.

This fact does not stop Ben from sitting on our doorstep in his underwear, with his mad scientist hair and crazy beard and having a leisurely series of cigarettes. He likes to sit in front of the house and smoke, despite the fact that (1) we have a backyard where the potential for our neighbors to see Ben in all his glory, as well as the opportunity for crazy salesmen to approach with a crazy sales pitch/confession is lessened exponentially, and (2) his coy-dog, which he basically ignored the entire time he was here, was in the backyard.

Why not kill two birds with one stone by smoking and spending some quality time with your coy-dog?

And no, I did not blame Ben for the return of the crazy magazine guy, that I blame on his brother. Adam, in his apparent haste to get the crazy magazine guy off of our front porch, told him that I make the decisions on the magazines/house repairs/whatever the dude told him he was selling and to come back when he saw my car in the driveway. Perhaps Adam was not aware of the mood that I would be in when I returned to the house. Perhaps he did not think that the crazy magazine guy would actually return.

I was irritated when I got to the house and saw that there were two packs of cigarettes, one plastic cup with cigarette butts and one Styrofoam cup scattered around the front door. So I commented that our house was looking like trash-can central. At which point Ben went and picked up the offending items.

But it couldn't just end there.

Ben had to say something to the effect of--To my credit, the crazy magazine guy left one of the packs of cigarettes and the Styrofoam cup. He was here for like, fifteen or twenty minutes.

To which I responded--Whose fault is it that the crazy magazine guy was here that long?

Ben may complain that it's not his fault crazy people are attracted to him, and maybe there is nothing that can be done about that. HOWEVER--he encourages them to stick around, and therein lies the problem.

Ben was, first of all, sitting out on the front doorstep in the middle of the afternoon, smoking a cigarette, looking all crazy and wearing dirty clothes. This would seem (to me) to be the type of person that would attract a neighborhood-wandering crazy magazine guy like a moth to a flame.

May I reiterate that if you are in the back yard and not the front yard, it is less likely that you will run into some uninvited character. But then you wouldn't have a crazy magazine guy post, either.

Also--I honestly can't imagine that Ben could resist regaling the crazy magazine guy with some of his schtick, thus inviting the crazy magazine guy to not only hang around and share his own stories, but making him feel comfortable enough to leave his trash on my doorstep.

So, ultimately, I do blame Ben. If Ben hadn't been making friends with the crazy magazine salesman, he wouldn't have still been here when Adam got home, and Adam wouldn't have had the opportunity to make the mistake of inviting him back. It's likely he wouldn't have littered my front porch. And I never would have had to know about his existence. :)

Here's an exit point to the conversation: There's a new thing called getting up off your ass and going into the house. And locking the door behind you. Try it.

Later that evening, the crazy magazine guy rang the doorbell. I went to the door. The crazy magazine guy introduced himself (BTW--using a different name than the one that he gave Ben). I asked him if he was selling magazines. He said yes. I said I didn't want any. I closed the door. The whole exchange took about fifteen to twenty seconds.

Ben went home soon after, apparently because I'm as mean or meaner than my Dad.

Thursday, February 26, 2004

6. Apparently, Ben hates my husband. And that's not nice!

Ben says that he hates my husband, Adam, who also happens to be his eldest brother.

Because Adam gives him books to read.

Are you sure that you didn't "borrow" those crappy books yourself?

Hey--you're not the one who has to hear it when Adam is rustling around at night obsessively searching for some book that you've taken without asking. It is I who must endure the insinuation that I "must have done something" with the precious book when he can't locate it.

Adam is the same brother who bailed Ben's dumb ass out when he "forgot" to pay his electricity bill for ten months. Anyone else would have had their electricity turned off after the first month. I guess the electric company in Austin operates on the Ben principle of never going to the mailbox.

This was how long ago? At least two years? Three years? And how much money do you still owe him, Ben? Instead of being grateful to have a brother who will help his sorry ass, Ben complains when Adam asks about the money, which he shouldn't have to ask about. He says that Adam is like the Mob, Paulie from Goodfellas or Tony Soprano.

Would the mob carry you for that long? You would already be sleeping with the fishes. Sleeping with your own dead fish--dead because the coy-dog ate all of their food.

I wish I had more hands so I could give you more thumbs down.

Friday, February 20, 2004

5. Crack Jacket

You may remember Ben's post on how he got a jacket from a crack-head in exchange for $30 and not getting his ass kicked.

You may also remember that when Ben was approached by the crack-head, he was (1) in the parking lot of his apartment complex and (2) wearing only underwear, a jacket and combat boots. This situation alone is probably worthy of an entry, especially if you have ever seen Ben's underwear and boots.

It seems that the coy-dog enjoys ventilating Ben's clothing for him, and that Ben enjoys wearing coy-dog ventilated clothing. So it's a symbiotic relationship. Either that, or the coy-dog has eaten all of her food, the cat food, the fish food and the cat crap, and is forced to turn to Ben's clothing for sustenance.

For the past two Christmases, Ben has received Sam's sized bags of dog food, cat food, and cat litter, courtesy of his brother and me--his darling sister-in-law. Fishies, if you are still with us, I am sorry. Sam's doesn't carry fish food.

It is my understanding that Ben got some new boots for his birthday. Thank God. May they remain chew-free for some time to come.

One time, I went shoe-shopping with Ben and my husband. My husband was shopping for work shoes. Ben suggested boots with high heels, because Ben likes boots with high heels, because he doesn't want to look "short". He hides the high heels by wearing his pants so low that the crack of his ass shows.

Ben is a lot like Prince, now that I think about it. He likes high heeled boots and he likes for his ass to hang out of the back of his pants. Although I doubt Ben is as good at basketball.

But I digress.

You may also remember that Ben later realized that the jacket had been (we'll assume) purchased from Goodwill, because it still had the Goodwill price tag on it. Not that there is anything wrong with Goodwill--you can find some cool shit there. However--Goodwill apparel "broken in" by a crack-head and procured while in fear for one's personal safety may not be the most desirable of clothing. In most people's opinion.

But, as he has proven time and time again, our Ben is not most people!!

So, of course--Ben wears the crack jacket. In public. Even though he says it makes him look "short". Even though he has other jackets. Even though he got a new jacket for Christmas. Even though the crack-head jacket is probably infested with crabs and lice and various crack-head-juices.

Maybe that's why he likes it. It gives him that edge of mystery and danger--what mysterious dangerous disease can be caught from the person wearing this jacket?

Hey--at least it hides his ass crack.