Dear Siblings,

It’s your sister Kathleen. I just watched a particularly incensing episode of “Real Housewives of the OC”, and have some issues I need to address. Not that I actually think either of you would do anything like this, but much like when my professor told us how her husband broke her inherited china and there was nothing she could do about it because it was half his and I came home and made Mom change her will so that whatever loser I end up marrying can never get his hands on anything familial, it’s all about security.

(And separate bank accounts for insurance.)

(I hate living in a marital property state.)

(Unless he has more property.)

(And he will. I’m going to be a history theology professor.)

(Actually, I’m okay with marital property.)


So. If Daddy ever gets diabetes and loses his sight and Mom starts shrinking due to some horribly fast form of osteoarthritis and you move to California to wear inappropriately low-cut tops given your saggy boobs and work with your ex-husband who you seem to think still finds you attractive even though he doesn’t and you’re not and then come back to Milwaukee to whine at them about never coming to see you in LA and then tell me that I will be stuck in Wisconsin forever if I don’t move right now and who is going to take care of them then, huh? and then have a softly-lit soliloquy along Lake Michigan about how you don’t miss your life here?

I. Will. Kill. You.

Oh, yes. I don’t care that I am infinitely cuter than you and you are any evil witch with some weird facial growth and an inflated ego. I will snap and kill you. And you know what?

It will be a painful death. It will be slow. It will be creative. You will definitely be awake for it. It may involve Daddy’s white blindness stick thingy or Mom’s medication.

The police? Will probably be on my side.

So. Just putting you guys on notice. Don’t pull any Jeana shit.


Your loving and slightly homicidal sister


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