The Truth About Boys
So a weekend of our parents not being in town led to several nights of my brother's friends hanging out and staying over at our house, one of which included a party that they invited six girls to and cooked for in an attempt to impress and pull.
Two days into walking in and out of the house at all odd hours, staying over at whoever's place I liked and I realised that this was what it would be like to be an orphan with a rockstar schedule and a car.
Not half bad except for the laundry piling up and having to take care of all the bills.
The result of the weekend, though: a dramatic oversupply of testosterone. It hit me all through the excessive beer drinking and rowdy "that's what she said jokes", it hit me through hilarious rounds of rock band, jackass-like skateboarding episodes in the front driveway and especially when they wouldn't stop calling some really hot chick with big tatas who came for dinner "bubbly jubblies" and "chempedak" behind her (voluptuous) back.
Everything came to a head when we were all crowded round a window, secretly parting the curtains and peeking out at my youngest brother as he hugged one of the girls goodnight. "Oh score! He got a hug!" I enthused.
"Doesn't matter," Tim intoned gloomily from the window, "It's from the ugly one."
Okay, since when was it acceptable to invite over one girl you're not that into so that all her cute friends come along and then call her the ugly one?? Ah well, I suppose it happens all the time, even among us chicks.
Amidst all the bravado however, I saw hints of delicate girly-ness. Like when the guys lined up to make crepes and were boasting about how they'd known to do it all along while handling the pan with the lightest of touches. Or when they sat around in a circle the morning after, swathed in blankets like fortune tellers and systematically dissected the dinner party before.
Or most of all when I brought up the fact that I had introduced both my brothers to the beauty of facemasks and told Han that he should try one too: "You may scoff, but it's really comfy and guys geniunely seem to dig it."
"Don't even tell me," Han said waving expansively, "I just put one on two days ago."
Following which, he suggested facemask night which had all the boys agreeing delightedly and transported me back to not two hours before when The D and I were walking from the petrol station with bags full of nutritious snack food and he stopped suddenly in his tracks and turned to me like an excited puppy. "Guess what! I brought a face mask in my bag!"
I laughed so hard I nearly fell into the road.
All right, then. I guess testosterone must really, really smell like aloe vera and lemon.
Two days into walking in and out of the house at all odd hours, staying over at whoever's place I liked and I realised that this was what it would be like to be an orphan with a rockstar schedule and a car.
Not half bad except for the laundry piling up and having to take care of all the bills.
The result of the weekend, though: a dramatic oversupply of testosterone. It hit me all through the excessive beer drinking and rowdy "that's what she said jokes", it hit me through hilarious rounds of rock band, jackass-like skateboarding episodes in the front driveway and especially when they wouldn't stop calling some really hot chick with big tatas who came for dinner "bubbly jubblies" and "chempedak" behind her (voluptuous) back.
Everything came to a head when we were all crowded round a window, secretly parting the curtains and peeking out at my youngest brother as he hugged one of the girls goodnight. "Oh score! He got a hug!" I enthused.
"Doesn't matter," Tim intoned gloomily from the window, "It's from the ugly one."
Okay, since when was it acceptable to invite over one girl you're not that into so that all her cute friends come along and then call her the ugly one?? Ah well, I suppose it happens all the time, even among us chicks.
Amidst all the bravado however, I saw hints of delicate girly-ness. Like when the guys lined up to make crepes and were boasting about how they'd known to do it all along while handling the pan with the lightest of touches. Or when they sat around in a circle the morning after, swathed in blankets like fortune tellers and systematically dissected the dinner party before.
Or most of all when I brought up the fact that I had introduced both my brothers to the beauty of facemasks and told Han that he should try one too: "You may scoff, but it's really comfy and guys geniunely seem to dig it."
"Don't even tell me," Han said waving expansively, "I just put one on two days ago."
Following which, he suggested facemask night which had all the boys agreeing delightedly and transported me back to not two hours before when The D and I were walking from the petrol station with bags full of nutritious snack food and he stopped suddenly in his tracks and turned to me like an excited puppy. "Guess what! I brought a face mask in my bag!"
I laughed so hard I nearly fell into the road.
All right, then. I guess testosterone must really, really smell like aloe vera and lemon.
She said, she said at 6:54 pm
3 Comments:
hahahah i like your entry, i shall disturb hanshii later about the face mask thing. btw, i plucked his eyebrows, put mascara and curled his lashed before, he makes a rather.. interesting girl
Hahahaha I'm sure he does. I'm also sure it was HE who stole my rose-scented L'occitane conditioner from my bathroom!
oh yes that one you're definitely right
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