Putting the fun in dysfunctional.
My family is temperamental. Half temper, half mental.
The very people I'd love to hate (or is it hate to love?), the very kind who taught me that it's the little things in life that can drive you to insanity... and who put the 'fun' in dysfunctional.
Sometimes (most of the time, really) they drive me so crazy I swear they should come with warning labels but when they don't, I thank whoever up there for giving me this sister and cousin-who-is-like-the-brother-I-never-had because seriously,
We look so good together.
I'm not kidding.
I mean, how often do you get a trio with one being the typical ah-lian-wannabe with her long, straight hair and flouncy dresses (that's ME by the way), another being a granny hair trendsetter with 123457 tattoos and a dude in a floral shirt werkin' a Balenciaga... who will in the middle of Chinese New Year visting, spontaneously go, "Eh let's go downstairs and take chio photos!"
So whoever up there, thank you. I wouldn't trade them for the world.
(But to be honest, I did try selling my sister for 10 bucks when I was 7. Nobody wanted her, dayum.)