For some people, wearing a thong means comfort or the expectation/hope of sexy times ahead.
For other people, thong days mean laundry days.
Can you guess which type of person I am?
(Hint: *lugs shite downstairs*)
I do not have an appropriate I-am-doing-everyday-things icon.
Up next: beta'ing.
(So that the tone of this gets across as-written, I want to clarify that this is not a rant post. I have been amused through the interactions and through the typing of this post.)
I don't think I've previously given real reasons for why my brother is a dweeb, and thus why I call him Dweeb as a nickname. I will give examples here, all of which occured within minutes of each other:
[Kiwi heads downstairs to put her laundry in the wash, where she discovers that a bomb of her brother's clothes has gone off everywhere. The dryer is also open, half-full of his clothes with some in the process of escaping.]
Kiwi: "Ugh, Dweeb!" [She puts her clothes in the washing machine, goes about adding the detergent and turning it on. It makes odd noises at her and appears to be entirely displeased with its existence.] "Double ugh." [Her dog, Muggzzey, runs up and starts sniffing.] "Has Dweeb fed you, darling? Let's go find him and ask. About the machine, too."
Mugz: "Sniff sniff, huff-snort grumble." [Wags tail, hits head on doorframe, shakes head, wags more.]
[Kiwi roams around the house shouting "DWEEB!" and "XANDER!" No response. She barrels into his room, where the light is on, to find it empty.]
Kiwi: "Cat dirt, donkey dung, horse bollocks."
Dweeb: [Yelling from downstairs.] "DID YOU JUST RUN INTO MY ROOM?"
Kiwi: "BECAUSE THE LIGHT WAS ON AND I COULDN'T SEE YOU IN THE PLAYROOM WITH THE LIGHTS OFF!" [Finally makes it downstairs.] "Did you not hear me yelling for you everywhere?"
Dweeb: [Laughs sheepishly.] "Uuhhh...no?"
Kiwi: "I even called you, but your phone is still out of batteries."
Dweeb: "Yeah. I lost the charger. Can I borrow yours?"
Kiwi: [Pauses to stare at him.] "You realise that this is the second charger you will be asking me for, right? My phone and Kindle use the same type, so I already gave you my extra one the last time you asked. Where did you leave it?"
Dweeb: "Down at the Reds' house."
Kiwi: "Okay, alright. You can borrow my charger--but leave it in my room. It's up on my bed; charge your phone there."
Dweeb: "Cool cool. First I have to find my phone. It's been so long since I used it that I lost it."
Kiwi: [Rolls eyes.] "Ugh: You Dweeb."
Dweeb: "It's not my fault I spend all day gaming and doing nothing so I lose things!" [He laughs as he untangles himself from his computer.]
[The Crocus Children start moving.]
Kiwi: "Did you feed or let out the dog?"
Kiwi: "Good. I did. Is the washing machine broken?"
Dweeb: "Uhh...I guess?"
Kiwi: "Brilliant. And are those your clothes in the dryer?" [Watches very carefully, for of course she knows they're his clothes.]
Dweeb: "Oh, uh, yeah. I was in a hurry and just grabbed what I needed."
Kiwi: "Gotchya. Are you going to take them up to your room?"
Dweeb: "Uhhh...do you need me to?"
Kiwi: [Huffs and laughs.] "Well, since I'm clearly attempting to do my laundry, it'd sure be lovely!"
He came up with his phone a minute ago. The clothing is now in a new pile in his room. There is a bowl of ramen broth by Mum's laptop and an unrinsed pot from his making of the ramen.
Now, the word 'dweeb' has a number of more specific definitions, but for the general definition is "loser". (There are a number of similar terms: dweeb, dork, geek, nerd; they all have slightly different definitions but for the most part imply some sort of loser-ness. Gamers hear most of them from time to time.) "Dweeb" can also mean the socially inept, unattractive nerd-type-person...but one of the reasons I use it for my brother is that he is none of those: his other stereotype in school was a jock (he was a winning player of the high school tennis team). He's tall, dark, and handsome; he can be a bit of an arrogant arse (his friends all rag on him for it as well) but he can charm the ladies when he wants; he's absolutely capable of just about anything when he sets his mind to it.
He just prefers not to.
(And, for the record, he could reciprocate at any time; he just doesn't seem to have the knack for it. He could turn right around and start calling me "Dork", which would be perfect in that it would fit the same way Dweeb fits him: I have odd interests that are not usually "cool" and I am often silly/eccentric; yet the specific definitions often point to being socially inept or ugly, neither of which I am. He once tried to start calling me "Oh Helpless One" when I requested someone else get ketchup for me during a meal [I was in my fourth month of crutching after my soccer injury at 14] but it didn't catch on because when he pissed me off [he was 12; he tended to do that] I could hop after him even if he stole my crutches, beat him up, and steal the crutches back without great difficulty. "Helpless" I was not in any way.)
Ahahaha. Life with a 20-year-old boy-brother. Makes me laugh. Especially since he has the habits of a boy but the awareness of it of a man: he knows he's being naughty and doing it anyway. Dweeb.
My parents returned home not long after finishing that entry on my brother. My brother deciding to slide down the front of the minivan and cracking the windshield everywhere with his arse right before our relatives, visiting from England, were off to see Canada.
As a very special homecoming, my brother broke a glass bowl in the sink and couldn't figure out how to clean it up. I helped him and finished up the cleaning.
My brother then informed my father, "The hot water's out." This is a fairly frequent occurrence in the household and requires a trip down to the disgusting basement, back to the farthest room, to hit a little button on the boiler.
I said, "Welcome home!" with a cheeky grin on my face. My mother instructed my father to teach my brother how to Hit The Button.
My father, wearing his Good Suit, heads for the door; my brother, wearing no shirt and no shoes, heads for the door. My mother and I look at each other and roll our eyes as we turn to our respective boys.
"Put some shoes on!" I tell my brother.
"Take that jacket off!" she tells her husband.
That is, in our family, a silent "you idiot". (My father turned to my brother and said, "I shall take my jacket and shirt off. We will do this without shirts, as men.")
A silent "you idiot" is when the "you idiot" is implied: "Put some shoes on, you idiot!" or "You idiot, take that [expensive and difficult-to-clean] jacket off!"
This evolved from the spoken "you idiot", which is still used frequently within the household.
The first incident occurred in our cabin in Maine. My father was cooking pasta, or some such, and needed to strain whatever it was that he was cooking. Instead of finding any arrangement to safely strain the foodstuffs out of boiling hot water, he proceeded to hold the strainer and pour the hot water over his hand.
My mother watched this happen. Now, some wives are kind and sympathetic and will stroke a man's ego when he has so clearly bruised and burned it; my mother, in this instance, was not--not for a moment. She looked at him as he stood there howling and cussing in pain and she called out, "You idiot!" Not in anger or to be mean, but to acknowledge the stupidity of the action and the humour therein. (My uncle was taken aback by such a response and jumped in to help, which of course my mother did as well.)
After that, "you idiot" became the family motto for when something terrible but stupidly funny happened; even my uncle joined in.
Other such examples:
My father coming into the house and telling my mother, "The car hit a rock." "You hit a rock?" "The...er...the car did. I wasn't in it." For he had not put the car in park, and it had reversed down the driveway until it smashed into a 'rock'. My mother came outside and screeched something about it being "a boulder"; I have to agree with her on that one, for the English understatement did not do this huge, hard mass justice.
The time I was in a Super Hurry to get to senior youth with my brother because we were Super Late...and I scraped one of our cars with the other of our cars, despite usually being very good with reversing (parallel parking being a favourite activity of mine). Lesson to learn: our family is dangerous with reversing vehicles.
I can't think of one for my mother at the moment, although she is not immune. It's true that my brother and father tend to get the most "you idiot" moments, but we all end up with them. The men of the household just have more space-cadet moments. (That's what we say for being zoney/out of it: you've gone space cadet and lost your head in space.)
I just like to explain, from time to time, the odd family that is mine. That said, please note that if I ever do something stupid and hurt myself because of it, I will be put far more at ease by laugher than I will by warm and immediate action.
TL;DR: I effin' love my family.