Dear Sister

Dear Sister,

Happy birthday! My sister, the only person I can revile while loving her. The magic that is the sibling bond, I guess? Until I was 5, every moment of my life, I wanted to be you. Sure, you're two years older than I am, but we potty trained at the same time... because I wanted to wear big girl underwear like you did.

We were dressed in the same funny clothes.

We had our hair done in the same funny pig-tails.

We wore the same rubber boots when we were camping.

We both vomitted up the same kraft dinner and hot dogs at Wendy and Clark's house when Tamara got us sick.

We'd run through sprinklers, ride our bikes all the way to the corner store to buy popsicles, we made questionable soup from the chestnuts that fell in the backyard.

We drove quads up hills that were too steep and fell off the vehicles together.

We built fires in the sand dunes and told scary stories.

We sang songs like "Hi, My Name Is Joe" and we laughed and we cried.

We yelled and screamed.

We threw things at each other, we threw punches, we kicked, we bit, we poked.

We played with Barbies and Lego for hours on end in the basement.

We learned to swim together that one day when we spent an hour in the pool with Jason at the Peterson's.

After wanting to be like you, I wanted to be me.

We didn't dress the same anymore, except on those occasions when I was forced into "nice" clothes.

We had different friends and different ideas of what was fun to do, what was good to listen to, and what was cool to watch on TV.
But we still had our moments of togetherness. Like when Michelle and I had that baby together (do you remember that blonde one with the hole in her leg because I left her in the car?) and you were our wet nurse.

We played in band together for a while.

We saved each other from the wrath of irrational parents.
More importantly, we saved each other from awful conversations with various other family members.

Now, I appreciate having a sister. I don't think I ever did. Maybe we don't know everything that happens in the other's life, but I think we understand each other. So much of what we've experienced has been the same. We're very different people, but that commonality binds us together. You were my favourite person growing up. You are my forever friend whether you like it or not.

One more time; happy birthday, bitch.

Stingy mostra chair,
Peat

Sharky, Sister, Peat, and I think the kitty is Stinky

Sister and Peat

Sister and Peat photo-booth it!

Sister, frog, Peat with bubble pipe in Burke's Falls

Peat, Michelle, Danielle, Sister in front of our bus (miss those hot-pink flamingos)

Very Pregnant Sister, Lady, Peat at cousin's wedding two summers ago (only dress I own)

Dear Life (as Inspired by Davey) Part 1 in an un-ending series

Dear Life as Inspired by Davey,

I was going through the QSCC forum and a wonderful person had made two lists. A 'thumbs up' list and a 'thumbs down' list. I carried it on in the same medium as he did, but I would like to take this opportunity, life, to express to you my likes and dislikes in this blog. And so it begins:

Thumbs down to:

• pizza with the wrong toppings
• not having doors to close in my bedroom
• nieces eating food I'm about to put in my mouth (bitch stole my rice krispies square!)
• getting drunk but still remembering things
• people who I thought were friends who divulge information that is nobody else's business (yeah, still bitter)
• being bitter
• not getting invited out just because that girl broke up with me
• too much rain in July
• not nearly enough boxes for my books
• smelling noticeably like Tide laundry detergent. Seriously... is it really that bad? You're always making comments about it (you know who you are)
• new shower heads that don't give me enough water and pressure at the same time (fts)
• not having shoes for Davey's party on Saturday (yet?)
• lesbians being clingy (i.e. me)
• not having a duvet cover
• Pringles, because I can stop once I've popped
• paint fumes

Thumbs up to:

• finding a Sudoku book and bringing the game back into my life
• siblings who let me wear their clothes (as an aside here, I find it wonderfully interesting that I will wear the clothes of both my older sister and my younger brother and they will wear mine, but they do not ever share clothes)
• Jonathan Swift, for writing the best book I've read all summer (Gulliver's Travels)
• scholarships
• lined paper
• blank paper for doodles
• National Geographic magazines that are decades older than I am
• 3.5 boxes full of books about Russian history and politics
• Tide!
• clean stuffed animals (with bitchin' names like "Roary", "BearBear", "Irving", and "Juvenile Ostrich")
• neckties (I need a white one, methinks)
• cross-dressing (personally, I consider it to be cross-dressing when I dress to either the male or female extreme... any thoughts on this, readers?)
• witch hats and broomsticks not leaving my room because I don't want to pack them yet
• wire hangers, for holding up such a vast majority of my wardrobe
• throw pillows, especially the striped ones
• friends' couches

La vita e bella,
(X)Peat

Dear Ainsley and Suzi

Dear BGH Residents,

Your video games scare the poop out of me.
They are entertaining in a "what the hell was that and why did I just waste 20 minutes of my life watching you roll up the world?" kind of way.
You're hilarious. Thank you for your company today.

Roll that shit up,
Peat

Dear Frank

Dear Frank,

Happy birthday, my favourite ex-boyfriend.
I hope it's wonderful and drunken and explicit in every possible way.
Thanks for the movie last night.

Love always,
Peat

"Business in the front, party in the back." Mullets all the way, Frank <3

Dear Chris

Dear Chris,

I don't like you. Go away.
You're letting everybody down and you're no fun at all.
Seriously... just fuck off now.

You(rs),
Peat

Dear Katie

Dear Katie,

Aw, you're my favourite too!
Talk to you soon :)

Love,
Peat

Dear Family

Dear Family,

I'm significantly less than satisfied with you today.
You say to me: "We never see you."
I spent all day at home today, sitting at the kitchen table or in the living room and I barely got two words spoken to me.
Fuck you.

Love,
P

P.S. Yeah, totally bitter and not enjoying myself lately.

Dear Niece

Dear Niece,

Stay out of my room.
Don't eat my anti-depression candy. It depresses me when you do, and how am I supposed to cope with that if you're eating my candy‽
Stop smelling like Kraft Dinner all the time, too. Gross.

Love,
Your Anti-Christ, Peat

"I smell like white trash!"

Dear Favourite Aunt

Dear Auntie Angie,

Thank you for not immeditately asking if Lady was home when you called. I have been very much looking forward to speaking with you since your return from abroad. It was nice to hear all about your trip and I can't wait to see those pictures.

Shame about missing Russel Crowe that one day, but with the sort of luck you have, I'm sure you'll end up running into him one day out of the blue.
Welcome home.

See you soon,
Peat

P.S. Thank you for insisting that I not ever be called by my full name since the time of my birth. I truly appreciate it as I do rather detest it.

Where in the world is Russel Crowe? ... Filming in Farnham, actually.

Dear Closet of Mine

Dear Closet of Mine,

No, not that closet. Left you a while ago.
I'm talking to the actual closet attached to the bedroom which I currently inhabit.
Closet, why are you so full of things that aren't mine? A wedding dress, a box of Josef's primary grade artwork, a "hope chest" of sister's things from before she ran away, winter coats from the 80's and 90's, countless Rubbermaid totes containing only the Lord knows what, and boots. Oh my gosh, boots! Nobody wears these boots. Ever. Why are they in my closet? This is ridiculous.
Tato, I will not clean up this mess. It is not mine. Mine is confined to some stray laundry on the floor of the closet and a dresser.
I'm also not cleaning your basement for you. Not going there. Not even sorry.
Also... there are a lot of moths in this closet. Eep. Hope they don't get into my stuff.

Yuck,
Peat

Dear Basil

Dear Basil,

Happy birthday party.

Love,
Kneecap

Dear Tato

Dear Father,

You've got like... one more chance. Okay. Maybe two because you used to be cool.
Don't fuck up again.
I'm so out of here.

Your soon-to-be-mohawked-in-protest daughter,
Peat
F-ing andropause. -.-

Dear Mer

Dear Merissa,

I heartily thank thee for not being a douche-monkey like the rest of our mutual friends are. Your invitation to see Half-Blood Prince is graciously accepted.
Please note that I do not take your friendship for granted (nor any other friendship for that matter). I look forward to meeting your Caitlin-esque friend as well as the drive to Burlington, because you're great fun to drive with. Your incessant mocking of my "skillz" is genuniely appreciated. And yet I hate when other people do it.
You're fucking special, retard. Sloon.

MUCH love,
Peat

OHMYGOD! VOLDEMORT!

Dear Basil

Dear Basil,

Thank you for taking me in when home is not what it should be.
Find the fish! He went wherever I did go.

You ma fav,
Peatella/ Kneecap


That lemonade was made with real lemons!

Not a letter

Oh my God.
I get it.
It sucks... but I feel so much better :)
Readers rejoice, for your blogger is happy.

Dear Pancakes

Dear Pancakes,

Ugh. You're too easy to make. I'm going to get really fat.
No fair.

Love and syrup,
Peat

Mmmmm.

Dear Sister

Dear Sister,

That was really retarded. You really should know better than to yell and cuss at your parents. Seriously, they're totally doing way more for you than they ought to be. You should not be living here by all rights. So, be thankful.
Also, huge centipede just ran across my floor. Not related, but similarly disturbing.

Urgh,
Peat

Get it? Sister...

Dear S, S, and C

Dear S, S, and C (nickname initials = uber-sneaky),

What? Me? Bitter about your complete disregard for my feelings? Psh.

Regards,
Peat

Fine. Maybe a bit. Only because I loved you.

Dear Josef

Dear Josef,

I am insanely jealous at how much cooler you look when you dress up as a jazz trumpeter than I look when I actually am a jazz trumpeter. It's very nearly devastating.

Love,
HJfPMcPeat

Say it with me: "I'm so groovy." That's right.

Dear Peat

Dear Self,

It's okay to like wearing that dress. It's a nice dress.

Love,
You

And yet the only reason I feel like I can get away with the picture is because it's blurry.

Dear Lego Layton

Dear Jack,

Today is July 7th. That's 7/07 2009. Double sevens. Many people consider this a lucky day.
On July 7th, 2007, I celebrated to myself. It was not a particularly lucky day. In fact, it was rather a shitty day as it closely followed my being unceremoniously left to emotionally die... but that's another story, isn't it Jack? Yes, quite.

So, Jack... why am I writing to you? Perhaps the only answer to that is: why not? You seem as good a guy as any to write to.This is Jack. He has a rockin' moustache.
Jack Layton. A simple and trustworthy name is what you have. Not like that sneaky Harper guy; spelling his name with a 'ph' and whatnot. Oops, is my left-wing bias exposed? Too bad.
You've been quite the topic of conversation lately, Jack. Not particularly in the news or anything. Just that you seem to keep arising in my own life. I saw you in Toronto. You're a wonderful dancer. I'm really glad you came to celebrate with us. Your moustache is the envy of many. Don't ever shave it. It's pretty much your trademark. In fact, you might consider making it mandatory for every member of your party to grow one just like it. Especially Andrea Horwath.
I have one of her promotional stickers on my water bottle... in case you were wondering.
Y'know, I don't think it's too much to ask that you win an election. I mean, you'd think we were all a little tired of the Conservative-Liberal antics. We're not a two-party nation like our neighbours to the south (and north-west, lest we forget they border us there as well).
Also, Mr. Layton, if you happen to know of any nice ladies lookin' for some company, please don't hesitate to send them my way.
By the way, my Member of Parliament is Wayne Marston. This is Wayne. He doesn't think I'm a young boy. The best man won.Stupid name, but I wasn't about to vote for one of those other shmucks... both of whom came to my door and called me "young man" whereas Wayne said I was "a bright young lady."
Wise man, though I don't know about the "lady" part, at least he got the gender correct.
Morons.

Orange is a nice colour,
Peat

This is also Jack, but in Lego form as decided by me and Davey. We had Lego Jack give a speech to all of our Lego friends as well as ourselves. Good times.

Dear Tiff

Dear Tiff,

It went something like this:
*clicking through friends list; Tiffany insert last name here doesn't understand how Max isn't bald, given all the cat hair she just pulled out of her vacuum.*

The following took place inside my head:
Awwww, Tiff has a kitty named Max. I love kitties. Where's my kitty. Oh, here in my lap putting my legs to sleep. Awesome. Okay. Tiff... what to say to Tiff.
Tiff, you are hella observant and clearly clever. I'd like to see the non-quiet side of you which you profess to have. I'd also like to see you dance... because talent amuses and amazes me.

That's about it, I think. Hopefully that satiates your curiosity about what was internally said to you.

Cannibalism is (mostly) wrong,
Peat

P.S. That's how you get featured in my blog :)

In this photo: Awesome wet people.

Dear Facebook Friends

Dear Facebook Friends,

Today is probably the most lackluster day of this summer (so far). I can't break out the trumpet and amuse myself with music because Tato's on nights. I can't up an leave the house because I'm meant to be entertaining my Josef today. This is made quite impossible by the plethora of electronics in which he finds amusement. Perhaps I ought to just unplug his computer, disconnect his video games, and smash an hole through the television. Perhaps not.

"What have we got to do with this?" you ask me, Facebook friends. In my great state of boredom, I visited the profile page of ever single one of my Facebook friends. I did not post on anybody's walls, I did not send any "Face-mail," and I didn't poke anybody. What I did do was stop. I took a moment to look at everybody's status (if they had one). I checked out the profile picture. Then, I spoke to you. Each of you. Everybody got a few words thrown in their direction. Sometimes it was how I feel about you. Other times it was less interesting because I don't know some of you very well. For example, while to Frank I said: "It's going to be so fun living with you come September," all Ronnie got was: "Your white sunglasses are whore-like."

I think some of you would be surprised by what you might have heard from me had you been listening in. There were more platonic "I love you" 's said than I had realized were inside me. This sort of made me realize that I don't really despise as many people as I think I do sometimes. Several times I couldn't think of anything but "I wish you were here." Why must you be so far away from me?

And then I came to that one "friend." This letter is not to her. I came to that one friend to whom all I could say was this: "That's it. Good-bye." I wonder if she'll notice we're not friends. Do I care? More than I'd like to care, admittedly.

Facebook friends, I mostly love you. I mostly wish you were here because this Sunday tedium is just a little too much for me to handle.

You can tell I'm bored. This is a long-ass letter. Time to get me a life!

*poke*,

Peat

Dear Libido

Dear Libido,

You might consider calming down a little bit. It looks like we're in it for the long haul.

Woefully yours,
Peat

"This is the monstrosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite and the execution confined; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit." - Shakespeare

Dear Charlie

Dear Charlie,

I will never leave you on the bus again.
I promise.
But I will definitely make fun of people who leave their bikes on busses. I can't help it. It's stupid.

Your not-so-genius,
Peat

Dear Canada

Dear Canada,

Happy 142nd birthday!
Here's hoping Jack Layton gets to be your next Prime Minister parce qu'il est très beau avec sa moustache.

Much, much, much love,
Peat