It was my brother's birthday yesterday. He turned fourteen. Yay! To celebrate, we went out and had a delicious dinner with some relatives (since our parents are on the other side of the world right now), stuffed our faces with mango cake, went berserk playing the coin pusher game at the arcade (I swear it's so addictive, although you might soon find yourself out of change), and finally we went and watched X-Men First Class, which I'm feeling too lazy to do a review for. So instead, here's a picture of me and my brother as young not-so-innocent ones:
Pictured: creepy, slumped over doll with dead eyes, myself, my brother and a styrofoam cutout of Santa Claus, and it wasn't even Christmas or Halloween.
Now, in this picture, I was squeezing the air out of him, but I cleverly disguised it to look like I was giving him a hug. Evil? Yes, indeed. If you're reading this, you little poop, I have this to say: I love you. You're my brother no matter what, and I will always be your sister. So deal with it! Also, happy birthday! :D