Chanelling the spirit of Marilyn Monroe

Or Anna Nicole Smith, since yellow acrylic hair is involved.

I live interstate from my family, so most of our contact is via the InterTubes or over the phone. We have this family e-mail chain that has been going on for two years, but Facebook has opened up a delicious Pandora's Box. The photos, ohhhh, the photos. Hen's nights, weddings, random parties, and even ten-year-old photos of my slimmer self shit-faced and losing all motor control.

Now, my brother just did not want to follow the crowd onto Facebook - he flat out refused and openly mocked those of us who did. He fought gallantly against the unbearable temptation, until one day he decided that he could no longer resist the siren song of the drunken photos, annoying viruses, and addictive applications. I was expecting an absolute shit-storm of drunken photos and was not disappointed. Last weekend, a dress-up party. His girlfriend's blonde wig ends up on his head for most of the event. This weekend, an op-shop dress up party (capital idea, will totally steal!) and a different blonde wig finds its way onto his cranium. The extortion possibilities, my friends, are endless.

It goes without saying that his inner Anna Nicole was out and screaming, "BEER ME UP, SCOTTY!!" because it appears that he was too drunk to a) form facial expressions b) stand without assistance and c) provent his stomach contents from making an emergency exit.

He would totally fart on my pillow if he read this or heard me say it, but he looks a LOT like our father in these photos. Apples, falling, trees, etc.