I really can't recommend the Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase & Fable enough. Oh... wait... yes, I can. It's been on my homepage for over two months. I think that qualifies as too much. Time to read a new book, I suppose.
...

My Aunt Suzette and Uncle Joe have, for the last 17 years or so, lived in the house that I spent my first 10 years of life in Akron, Ohio. It's always a little creepy going over there because it makes me feel a bit like I'm in elementary school again. Each time I visit, the backyard (which once seemed as big as a football field) seems to get a little smaller. It's not really a big house either. Not big at all.

Subhas Soren, c. 1985. His current whereabouts are unknown, but my suspicions are that he's shrewdly invested my family's 7 cents a day and is now CEO of a large Ethiopian software conglomerate.

But, hoy, the testosterone that must be coursing through that home. 5 males, 2 females. The whole thing reminds me of growing up brotherless. My sisters, Erin and Lauren, always had each other... and, I suppose, I had He-Man and G.I.Joe. I wonder, though, what kind of difference it would have made in my development to have had a lil' bro. Maybe I'd have developed a fondness for sports and fighting and camping out and homemade explosives and boxing and manual labor... but, I kind of doubt it. At the very least, I have to think, I wouldn't have grown into the nancy little art fag I am today.

Although, enh, I may have misspoke. I can't forget my Unicef brother I was proud to call my own, Subhas Soren (pictured at the right). Subhas became part of our family when I was about 8 years old due to our sponsorship of an Ethiopian child during the Reagan years. Just seven cents a day (less than the cost of a cup of coffee!), bought me an everlasting fraternal bond... I'll never forget the late nights underneath an oversized sleeping-bag-tent... nothing but a flashlight and a stack of comic books... me and Subhas... trying to solve the mysteries of cars, teachers, and the opposite sex... laughing and wrestling and swearing and growing up... man.

Well, okay, the truth is Subhas and I have never met. My mom tried to tell me at the time that sponsoring this kid was "kind of like giving me a brother". I guess so, Mom. Thanks for the thought. But, really, it's been nearly 20 years and the guy's barely made any kind of effort to contact me (unless you count that letter he managed to send along, written in broken English, a few weeks after we started mailing him some cash). I mean, jeez. Real nice, dude... didn't we, like, save your life? Oh, or are you just too busy to remember the little people back in America who gave you a helping hand when your belly was bloated and you had flies in your eyes? Screw you, Subhas! Just one email! That's all I ask!