2014-07-13 11.08.19

Hey Sis,

Hope you had a good time last night. It certainly sounded like you did. After hours of tossing and turning I was finally about to drop off when I heard you come in, it must have been around 4. Remember what I said about closing the door quietly? And you know I don’t mind Dave staying over, but since when did his wet towel become our couch cover? It’s nice that you cook for him, I just wish you were as conscientious about cleaning it up afterwards as you are about catering to his other needs. But you’re such a big enthusiastic mongoose that it’s hard to be mean to you.


Anyway, just a quick note to remind you that it’s bin night on Tuesday. I won’t be here, but don’t get too excited – it’s not a date. Rebecca’s giving me a lift to that permaculture thing and it’s just easier if I stay at her place. And no, Mum isn’t paying and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t insinuate imply suggest the opposite to your friends. Because then I’d have to be pedantic, and explain that you still hold a grudge about the fact I got braces in high school and you didn’t. But if you consider all the times the family has had to bail out you and your “unique” boyfriends, I think we’re more than even. Remember the incident with the novelty carburettor?

So when you take the bins out (don’t forget the garden waste, that’s the green one), leave them right at the edge of the footpath, otherwise they might not get collected. That happened a couple of weeks ago, you probably didn’t notice but I got distracted and left them in the wrong spot. It was the night Jo and Lisa came around. You guys were drinking wine on the balcony, and I couldn’t help overhearing your gossip session about your dodgy exes. The reason I abandoned the bins mid-footpath was because of a story you told about the Barnacle (sorry, but that’s still how I think of Adrian). You said that when you two were living together in Mullumbimby, and the Barnacle was training to be a chef, he took such good care of you, and cooked up such amazing food, that you went from a C cup to a 32E.

I was in Canberra then, doing my Masters, so I rang Mum, because if your boobs miraculously increased by two and a half cup sizes that would be a genuine medical emergency – just like my teeth were a genuine medical emergency – and the family would be all over you to help out. She confirmed that your last growth spurt was in Year Nine. Then I rang Grandma. She thought I wanted to buy you some new underwear, you probably don’t realise this but she was mortally embarrassed about all your g-strings on the clothesline last time you stayed with her. Don’t be mad, she was a bit confused, but said your bosom has always been unassuming. And then I managed to contact Adrian, and he called me back with one of the three phone calls he’s allowed, and the Barnacle confirmed that when you two were living together in Mullumbimby your tits were a solid C at most. It all comes back to integrity. By the way, you still owe me 50 cents for the toilet paper.

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