Douchebag: "Ohmygod you're a twin!"
Me: "Yep, wouldn't wish it on anyone"
Douchebag: "Are you identical?"
Me: *hangs head* "No. He is a boy"
Douchebag: "Oh you know what I mean"
(secret me-voice in head: "Yes I understand you are alluding to the fact you're a fucking muppet who just realised they said something fucking ridiculous")
Almost everyone I tell has asked me the same question, so don't feel bad if you've asked me, I only secretly think you're a tool.
I went to visit him after he bitched at me about not seeing him enough when I go up to Norwich (where I am not from. I was not born there), so I went straight to the pub he works in and sat drinking until he finished, at which point we went to another pub round the corner with his colleague/flatmate who can also be classified as his no.1. Mancrush, and vice versa. It's quite sickening to watch actually, they really don't mind their love for each other being out there on display.
It was a typical evening with him; getting drunk, cracking jokes, and the thing that makes everyone around us leave after a while - we start regressing to when we where children and throwing punches, telling on each other, and generally being the most irritating we can possibly be in a short period of time. We think it's hilarious, but then again this in the regression-time: we think that we are children and being funny. In reality, when/if you grow up, it becomes painfully obvious that children are not funny. There, I said it. They aren't, I don't care if you think your kids are, because they are not. They might be for about 0.5-1.5 minutes but anything above that is serious frozen-smile time for witnesses.
So my brother and I get drunk and I demand he makes me a snack, which he has to do because I am 20 minutes older than him so he has to do whatever I say. Then I crash out on his sofa, the awful/hideous sofa that I have seen him throw up on countless times. A typical evening really.
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