Today, boys and girls, we are going to talk about my sister. Well, I am going to talk about my sister. You are going to read. Or close the window and not read. Either way . . .
I have a sister named Tofutti – er, Meagan. I just call her Tofutti. And she calls me Tofutti. Originally she was supposed to be Tof and I was supposed to be Futti, but it never worked out and now it’s just Tofutti or Futti. (It’s from “Overboard” if you’re wondering where we got it. Great movie, you should watch it again if you haven’t seen it in a while.)
So, when Futti was born I was SO EXCITED to have a sister, since I had been cursed with a brother before her, and Mom was adamantly told to “PUT THAT BABY BACK and bring back a sister.” Mom didn’t listen, but a year and a half later, Meagan arrived. Yahoo. I loved her with all of my four year old heart.
Then . . . well, then I grew up a little and we were that wretched four-years apart where she wanted to be like me and I wanted her GONE. So for about ten years, I was not a fan.
Meagan is our sensitive sibling, as well as the runt of the family. She cried more than we liked, and she didn’t put up well with the teasing that runs rampant in the blood of both sides of my family. My two brothers and I tortured and tormented her because a) we were awful and b) isn’t it awesome when you can get a sibling SO MAD they turn into a raving lunatic and go totally ape s***??? OK . . . mostly because we were mean siblings. And we were pretty awful to her. Unfortunately, she was just such an easy target! I am not a “small” girl by any means at 5’7 1/2″ and of not skinny form, and my brothers are 6’2″ and 6’3″ and built like houses. Tiny Meg-o is 5’3″ and weighs about four pounds. Beating up on her was like flicking a feather for us oafs. I’m honestly not sure how she survived. She’s totally scrappy, I’ll give her that!
Well, obviously, survive she did and finally, the horrible sister hating years passed us by, and now, I love my sister more than words could describe. She is my Futti. She makes me laugh constantly. She and her husband live in Utah, so she’s far away from me. It is very sad. But we keep each other entertained long distance.
Yesterday, for example, she left me a message on my cell phone that contained no spoken words, just her singing “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” as low as she could sing it (SpaceBalls style.). Hilarious. I listened to it like five times.
A few weeks ago, I left her a message that was nothing but me squealing one note at the top of my lungs for as long as I could hold my breath. She called me laughing so hard I think she was snorting and crying.
We are pretty much goofballs all the time now, doing whatever strange thing we can find to do to each other to make the other one laugh. This might include a painful bra snap, a wedgie or super-wedgie, a pantsing, a wet willy . . . you name it, we’ve tried it in the name of laughs. We even have our own dance called the Booty Shake, which was invented when we were trying to see if we could shake our butts without getting any of the rest of the body involved. It’s horrible looking but it makes us laugh until we fall down.
See below for examples of our craziness:
Us? Take Wedding Photos Seriously? HA!
Now my Futti is moving to New Orleans with her husband (who for the record is only an inch taller than her, so can you just imagine the midget babies they will have?!?! OH so tiny and cute) so he can go do nursing school things. She is sad to move even further from me and far away from the world she knows and loves. I am excited for her to have a new adventure and meet new people in that strange, other planet called “The South.” (No offense to any Southerners. I love it there. It’s just a different world!) I told her that if a hurricane comes she needs to give it the bird and yell at it to go away. Then, run as fast as she can for the North. This will be hard for her as she loves the rain and wants to dance in it at all times. Her hair is naturally curly and I can’t wait to see the crazy things it does when faced with the humidity. She sort of looks like Strawberry Shortcake when her hair gets humiditized. (Don’t get mad Megs. JOKING. Sort of.) I just know she’s going to have the time of her life and I’m dying for her to come back with an accent. I always wanted a southern drawl . . . now I can live vicariously through hers.
So, here is a little note to my sister that I am making public so you all can see how awesome I am. HAHAHA. Just kidding. I just want this to be public so she can look at it any time she’s feeling low or like she’s going to die from humidness.
Futti-pants, I miss you all the time and I’ll miss you even more when you’re not in Utah when I go to visit. Thanks for being my #1 sist-o and best buddy. Even if I do hate you for getting the tiny, skinny size 2 genes. Beotch. I love you and couldn’t ask for a better sister. I’d have picked you out even if you do look like Strawberry Shortcake and make me look like an ogre. LOVES YOU and your tiny self!! Kisses and a butt smack for good measure. Mwah.