The only thing better than drinking a pitcher of beer with my brother Thom is drinking a pitcher of beer with my brother Thom while we play with a cellphone some fool at our table left unattended. That sentence seems awfully bold on second read. To be perfectly honest there are probably a zillion things better than drinking cheap beer with Thom in Dirty Jersey (like making caramel apples with NPH while enjoying Justin Timberlake’s naked private concert in the mountain cottage we all share, for example), but it’s still a good time.
I think Rocco started it years ago with the ghetto old flip phones of the 90’s. His favorite game was to snag a friend’s phone and replace their name with the words “Low Battery.” Then Thom visited and changed Rocco’s phone language to Mandarin. It all went downhill from there.
If you spend any time with my little brother and you don’t have someone with the name Whorey McLovin’ in your address book, then Thom obviously doesn’t like you. That or you never leave your phone sitting out on top of a table. Odds are more likely for the first option though because that boy is not afraid to rifle through your bag. Adding Whorey McLovin’ to your address book is Thom’s way of marking you as his territory. You know how dogs pee on their favorite things? Well, it’s just like that. But dryer. Usually.
Personally, I prefer to tweak the already existing address book entries of my victims. I’d guess about a third of the students and faculty at the Stevens Institute of Technology have Thom’s phone number listed under either the name of their spouse, their significant other, or their mother.
You’d think people would learn to watch their phones a little closer, right?
Nope. Just the other night while we dined on buffalo wings (Thom prefers to refer to them as “small portions of atrophied limbs dipped in extracts of peppers and dairy byproducts.” Hard to believe he isn’t in marketing, right?), Thom managed to crank the cellphone shenanigans up a level. It seems his new game is to snatch someone’s phone and text their mother, “How do you know if you have an Oedipal complex?”
It’s hard for me to believe he turns thirty-two today, too. I just hope I’m there to witness the moment all things come full circle and he ends up texting himself his own Oedipal question.
Oh by the by, Thom – Creamed Corn picked this present out just for you. (For those of you considering clicking that link, don’t. Even I feel the need to scream NSFW!!! Not even a little bit. Screw work, it’s not safe for anyone who might consider consuming food or sleeping ever again.)
Happy Birthday, Little One.