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Ben: “Did you see Uncle Cabbage Patch’s new house? It’s so cool.”

Sarah: “Yeah, but I still haven’t decided which room is mine.” It’s between the one on the end or kicking the kiddo out of the pink room.”

Ben: “No, Sarah!! I already called shotgun on the end room. I saw it first!”

Sarah: “So what, I’m older.”

Ben: “You can’t use that forever you know. It’s not my fault you were born first.”

Sarah: “I will use it whenever I please. Besides the room is perfect for me.. it’s secluded and slightly separate from the others.”

Ben: “I refuse to give it up. The pink room screams Sarah, you should just move into that one.”

Sarah: “Hey, Ben… you do realize we’re fighting over a room in a house neither of us will ever live in right?”

Ben: “And your point is?”

Driving home today, I saw what looked like a cute guy on my street. I was gawking at him when I realized it was my brother Ben. After I threw up in my mouth I pulled over and yelled at him for looking like a normal boy.

“Al Gore is clueless, Daisy’s ass is the leading cause of global warming.”

After which, I’m sure he went straight home and starting researching on the internet how dog farts affect climate change.

It was nice to get away for a couple days, but man does it feel good to be home. I missed my beast of a dog and my own bed. Boise does have better liquor laws, but it doesn’t have mountains or my friends. Needless to say, I won’t be moving there anytime soon.

Of course I brought home as much wine and REAL beer as my little car could carry. I called Ben last night to arrange a pickup for his share of the wealth. Before I got a chance to tell him why I was calling, he let me know he found a good shop to replace the struts in my car. I don’t recall asking him about that, but maybe he was just preparing for the damage hundreds and hundreds of dollars in wine weight can do to a car.

Ben is such a good brother. He came and took me to lunch today, but STILL didn’t hang my shelves. Walking to our car I noticed a jeep parked next to me with a Mitt Romney sticker on the back.

“Ben, hand me your Sharpie.”

“No! This is my favorite marker and I don’t want it to end up in the evidence bin at the police station.”

I was mostly kidding. He was not. He has a strange fascination with markers and carries a Sharpie in his pocket. I wonder if this has something to do with the lack of girlfriend in his life.

Aimee and her daughter, Lo, met Ben and I at the Farmer’s Market this morning. Ben and Lo are like siblings these days. One day they hate each other and the next they are inseparable. Today was an on day. I think it had something to do with Ben teaching her how to blow bubbles with her gum last week.

My favorite part was the cupcake stand. Aimee’s favorite part was leaving and not having a parking ticket. Lo’s favorite part were the snow cones and Ben’s favorite part was comparing SLC Mayoral Candidates to Dick Cheney.

I think he’s considering a move downtown so he can vote in the race, based solely on looks. This is the brother who refuses to acknowledge the fact I pick favorite sports teams based on uniform colors. Hmm…

I hate Friday the 13th. I’ve never been much of a superstitious person until a few years ago. Now, I’m absolutely terrified of these blasted Fridays. The entire day I worry and feel panicky that my world is going to come crashing down around me, once again.

It was Friday the 13th when I found out my boyfriend at the time was cheating on me.

Since then many things in my life have changed. I’ve finally gotten to the point where I don’t feel that I drove him to it. I don’t hear his name and instantly feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and thrown into a blender. I’m at the point where I (gasp!) trust men again. But, each time the calendar reads Friday the 13th I feel sick inside. Now that feeling only lasts one day, and not every day.

Typically I ignore the day altogether and hibernate, but not this year. It so happen happens today is not just the day of impending gloom, but also Ben’s birthday. So instead of feeling sorry for myself, I’m going to focus on my rockstar brother, who despite all the shit i give him, is the best brother a girl could ask for.

Happy Birthday Bennyboy!

“Hey Ben, are you busy?”

“Yup. I’m doing shiv research.”

“You’re so weird, what are you really doing?”

“Looking up shiv on the internet.”

“Why exactly?”

“I was trying to text shit and my t9 wrote shiv. So I needed to research it.”

“And what are you learning?”

“Duh, Sarah. Lots. The shiv is the favored weapon of inmates in prisons across the world.”

“Cool Ben, I’ll know what to kill you with if you don’t come hang these shelves on my wall.”

Ben: “What does NKOTB stand for?”
Sarah: “Duh. The greatest band ever, New Kids On The Block!”

And suddenly that eight year age difference between siblings is all to clear.

To read this week’s column click here! To see humiliating footage from the night click here, here and finally, for the best/worst click here.

Neither Ben nor myself will be trying out for American Idol anytime soon. We, fortunately, realize how much we suck. And if we didn’t, we certainly do now.