Don’t Bawl Like A Little Bitch

I recently saw my youngest brother. After the recent move we now live in the same town again, but we don’t see him very much. Intentionally.

I feel bad for my brother. He’s going to get royally screwed, and not in the good way. His wife is a quintessential Spoiled American Princess and he’s one of the most completely beta boys I know. I’d call him an Omega except he somehow managed to get married and knock her up. I’m pretty sure that the kid is his because if you take a picture of this baby and put it next to baby pictures of my grandfather, my father, myself, my two brothers and my son you’d swear up and down that we’re all siblings. My father’s family has strong genes. So, not Omega… but boy is his relationship headed for trouble.

I could write a whole blog about my brother, but today we’re going to focus on one small event. I saw him this time without the wife (whom I despise) or the kid (whom I feel bad for and kinda like) at a fairly sizable gathering and my wife and I overheard this snippet of conversation (paraphrased):

Brother: Yeah, ever since the baby was born I find myself a lot more sensitive to tear jerkers.
Friend: What now?
Brother: You know, tear jerkers. I bawl like a little baby at sad movies now.

On the way home, my wife brought it up again. My wife’s comment?

At least I’ve got a vagina. What’s his excuse?

This is but one of the many, many reasons his wife (and her entire family) don’t have any respect for him. I’ve said it before: don’t cry in front of her. It’s a bad idea.

Her other memorable comment of the night?

Now that I know about game, it’s even more annoying when guys act like that.