My brother almost got in a fight yesterday.
Let’s talk about Matt for a moment.
When we lived in Omaha, we’d visit the gorilla house at the zoo. The silver backs used to enjoy charging the glass to scare the visitors (which brings up some interesting discussions about just who was observing who) and while grown men were jumping back, he would stand right in front with his nose to the glass.
When we lived in NJ, he got hit in the face with a tow hook. Went back to playing as soon as he got back from having the stitches put in.
All of this was before he was 8.
He’s 6’4” and a solid 190, has a high tolerance for pain and no fear at all.
I really pity the dumb redneck who thinks he can “whip his ass.”
He made the wise decision to not actually fight, but damn that would have been fun to watch.
Ezz troo tho. Matt is everything that I would expect from a younger brother. He’s playful, cheeky, confident and funny. But sweet Mary mother of Jeebuz is he big…not fat, just BIG, like, he towers over you.
All I did was diss his root beer (Murrikans, I love you, all of you, and I even love your beef jerky, 200% beef, whut?!) but root beer, bleurgh, I almost vommed. But Matt wasn’t amused…from that second on, I dreaded being left in a room with him alone.
Lawd knows, you don’t mess with DaBigMp!
P.s It’s the impossibly gorgeous sister, Alli, that I really feel for.
Source: section9
