My 2 year old nephew, Boodji, still doesn't know my name. All of my other nieces and nephews call me Auntie Lulu and his mama, Big Mama, refers to me as Lulu so he'll get the point, but he insists on calling me "Buck." We've corrected him every time he's said it for a month, but he laughs and shakes his head and says, "Noooo, BUCK!" and points at me. So I am Auntie Buck. We can't figure it out. Like I needed another nickname. Sheesh.
This same sister is having a baby in August and still doesn't know the gender because the little punk baby kept its legs crossed during her ultrasound. It's a good thing she's ok with surprises.
On another note, my sister, Mojo, turned 29 today. My mom managed to throw a tantrum like she usually does on birthdays. Heaven forbid that the day be about someone else. There were tears, pouting, and slammed doors. Big Mama had to mediate. Drama drama drama.
I watched my sister, Reb, intimidate a deli worker at the health food store today because he didn't have nitrate-free meats. He was pale and shaking by the time he handed her her order. If he'd been a little more self-possessed, he probably would've spit in it. I should've intervened, but it was entertaining. She knew more about the company he's working for than he did. Lawyers. Go figure.
My Grandma called today and complained about how her new prosthetic breast is too perky and then she cracked on the doctor who performed her recent masectomy. She was like, "He should have done a better job, my skin's all saggy." Reb said, "Grandma, you're 90, surgery can't fix that."