Jeff's Home!

This is my little brother. His name is Jeff. There are people in the world who love their siblings because they have to or because they know they should. I have the incredible luxury of loving my siblings because they are amazing people wholely deserving of my love. I am awed by their strengths and encouraged by their constant growth. My little brother is the sweetest person I know. And together we are able to build the funniest worlds . . . He is so handsome, is he not?

Here he is showing off his modeling skills. He called it "The Glasses Ad." Makes you want to buy your own pair, doesn't it?

This is just silliness. It is one of my favorite things about my brother: having weird faces, weird sounds and crazy expressions come out of nowhere. Our imaginations run wild and we entertain eachother with antics that have us laughing until it hurts.

Today was wonderful. Not only is it the day before Thanksgiving and the day AFTER I set up my Christmas tree, but it was the day I got to see my little brother. He has been touring with a theater group in the eastern United States. We exchange emails and our own special brand of quizzes while he is away. Every day I come home and have a funny note from my little brother. In fact, here is a taste of our humor:

'A Jeff Quiz'

You're strolling down a lovely autumn path when a black squirel crosses your path and says "Oh no you didn't get up all in my grill. This here is mybinnis!" Do you:

A. Throw back the attitude by waving your finger and saying "You don't know me!",

B. Challenge the rodent to a break-dance off,

C. Ingore the ghetto squirel and proceed down the way to purchase yourself an order of chicken wings which you will eat like a rabid bull chasing after his touriodore, or

D. Check into the nearest mental clinic, bind yourself in a straight jacket and pay the staff to feed you endless servings of lime jello in order to cope with the fact that you just saw a talking squirel.

"A Chelsea Quiz"

When meandering through a deserted Disco-themed Cemetary in Missouri, Idaho, you drop your nail file on a fresh grave. Do you,

A. Reach down and pick it up - no harm done.

B. Scream, fall on the groud and thrash about wildly until a low flying aircraft sees the melee and comes to your aid,

C. While whistling through your nose yell, "How dare you do this! What more can you take from me, you pig, you stupid hairy pig!" Then, realizing no one is listening, dance a merry jig and gorge yourself on Victoria Rum chocolates (a speciality of Mrs. Cavanaughs.), or

D. Allow your tears of unending sorrow to fall like raindrops upon the supple and brown earth, hoping that - in time - you will heal and move past this terrible tragedy. that nail file cost you a pretty penny, dammit.

These may seem silly to some - or many people - but they entertain my brother and me. And that's good enough for us.