I had my phone turned off from Saturday night when I went to bed until after noon Sunday. When I fired it back up, I got a volley of three text messages from my sister via Twitter.
U still up? Txt me from ur personal.
For some reason she doesn’t have my phone number. She follows me on Twitter and gets updates sent to her phone. It’s actually our main way of keeping in touch, though it’s kind of one-sided. Mostly I post and she receives.
Five minutes later:
U still awake? Need to talk.
No, I wasn’t awake. It was two o’clock in the morning, I was asleep, and my phone was off.
Twenty minutes after that:
I see all ur random bullshit daily. U cant take 5 sec to talk to ur sister when she needs u. Thks.
And that’s my little sister in a nutshell. Quick to anger! She’s kind of like a female version of Steven Seagal — “the woman with the short fuse.”
After some phone tag and a further exchange of texts and voice mail, we finally got to talk mid-week. I don’t need to spell out the details here for the whole world to see. That might get my ass kicked.
Let me just leave it at this: I love my sister, but that late-night text message was too funny.
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You just compared your sister to Deputy Seagal. But which facet of Seagal do you mean? Above the Law? Under Siege? Ticker? Mildly or fully bloated era Seagal?
Seagal is the Hope Diamond of action film power.