The best part of being married to Brandon is that everyday I find out something new. For example last weekend to battle my raging hangover I suggested breakfast at IHOP. Yes, I consistanly bitch about the weight I've gained since the wedding, but this was a hangover. The kind of hangover that makes you barf at the taste of your own hangover breath. This was serious.
Before breakfast came, that magic time between empty barfy stomach and the ease of grease, Brandon could tell I was struggling so he asked if I had any good scar stories.
"Nope, no good scars, I'm to scared to get scars. What about you ?"
Good thing I asked. He was desperatly looking at me as if my crappy scars don't matter and only he can be the scar master in this family. To which I say fine, SCAR MASTER IS YOURS.
"See this, (holds out index finger) I got this scar (which just looks like a crease in his finger, but I buy it. Believe me no one else would brag about this) from breaking a beer bottle over my head in school"
By school he means UC Davis, which is where Brandon went to torture the staff and students alike for 5 years.
(Disgusted) "Brandon, why would you break a beer bottle over your head?"
"I don't know, but I ran all the way home with it wrapped in a towel. It was really bleeding."
"What kind of beer?" (As if this actually matters)
"Actually it was an Alize bottle"
"That makes this story worse, don't tell people about tha!t." (Who the hell brought Alize to the frat party. Ghetto Sacramento asshole.)
"I didn't drink any."
" HUMMM, O.K."
Our breakfast continued very nicely. But I swear everytime I get mad at Brandon for something. I just think of what he must have looked like while breaking an Alize bottle over his head and then promptly running out of a party. I can't stop laughing. I also don't know if I'm sad I didn't know him in school or if I'm really happy I didn't know him then.
Thank you sweetheart for making my hangover breakfast better.
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