robby's blog

Welcome back Curtis, glad to see you have returned to the land of the educable.

Why, thank you (I’m assuming Robby’s) dad! I’m glad to be back in that land as well.

I love how you wrote it on Robby’s “about page” and not on my “wall” or something.

Hey, I vote that you triple minor in something like Portuguese/Finnish/Obscure African Tribe Language.

Portuguese/Finnish/Obscure African Tribe Language/Gaelic. I just like the sound of Gaelic.

Yes, definitely add the Gaelic…you will be totally set up for life/and or death if you know those four languages. 

I try not to think to much about the death thing.

He’ll think about death when it happens.

Perhaps not even then.

He had to think about death at almost every waking moment during his childhood, so he’s kind of tired of the subject. But really, that constant awareness of impending doom was the only thing that helped him through the multiple assassination attempts. That and his light and springy skeleton.

Oh, and his resistance to poison. And his ability to smell BS a mile away.
“Robby, Mom wants you to do all these chores and then go lay in the middle of the freeway for a while. Okay?”
“Um, didn’t Mom tell YOU to do those chores?”

The saddest part is that you all think she’s joking.
She’s not, let me tell you. She has thrown me from a tree house, poured lysol in my milk, and pawned off more chores than I can count.
So there is nothing funny about it.

And put soap on your toothbrush. And committed crimes for which I framed you. And would beat you up, only repentant once you’d start crying (“Look Robby! I hit myself in the face! Slapstick! Funny! STOP CRYING NOW!”). And innocently tattled whenever I could work it out so I wouldn’t be punished too. And used you to trick mom into letting us watch movies. And convinced you to share toys and treats after I broke or lost or ate my own (ate treats, not toys, usually).
And soooooooooooo much more.
I’m getting sort of weirded out, trying to remember.
You know, if we were honest, I bet we could remember just as many horrid things we did to Phil. And if YOU were honest (ha! fat chance!) you’d realize that you fought back pretty efficiently. My childhood was not a bed of roses while yours was squalor. I think they were about even. Sort of.
Remember when I would take you aside and tell you about “The Real World,” like when I was in sixth grade and you were still in the “lower grade” classroom so you didn’t know about the hardships that were to come once you entered the “real world” that I was in? Ah, good times. I didn’t believe half the garbage I fed you. I just relished the sheen of fear in your eyes.

Sob Life was so Sob hard. who am i kidding it’s harder living at home “alone” than with constant torture

Shut up, Philip. We never got to torture you. Mom would have had something to say about that, so we didn’t. Mom would have had this to say about that: A:HASLKHFLSIWHENVJCHIEHDZUXFKEWHFLKJDSHFLUG UEWKLJRHSDUFGULEKBFJKEGFUEFBLDN! LOVE YOUR BROTHER! OR ELSE!

Looks like your question thing at the end of the post worked. Also not having to sign in is nice too. Good job. Nice list. Thanks.