I HAVE A NEW FRIEND. I AM SO EXCITED I HAVE TO WRITE A POST ABOUT IT

LOOK AT THIS FRIEND I FOUND.

IT’S A CHARIZARD! A BIG, PLUSHIE, HONEST-TO-GOODNESS CHARIZARD.

Why am I so excited?

Well, I broke one of my mugs recently and wanted to replace it. If you’re me, that means going to the nearest thrift store to pick out a nice, hopefully unchipped cup that reads something like “Pikes Peak, Colorado” or “Fabulous, Las Vegas!”

So I stopped by my local Goodwill Outlet store for a nice dig. And when I say dig, I mean actually dig. While Goodwill stores are nicely laid out in pretty racks and all that, Goodwill Outlet stores are usually just huge bins of clothes and knickknacks for people to sift through.

Like this.

And, while browsing, I dug this fine fellow out of a bin of unmatched boots. Why was he there? Why had no one claimed him? Why was he abandoned in the first place? I was asking myself all of these things as I tenderly drew him out of the pile.

I was astonished. Stunned. Amazed. Overjoyed. I stood for a good two minutes just staring at the Charizard in total, utter amazement.

I unabashedly walked up to the front counter. There was no price tag on this poor Charizard. How much would he cost? 5 dollars? 10?

One dollar?! How could the price of this fine Charizard be so low? This guy obviously deserved better than this. I took him home in a blaze of glory.

So now I have a giant stuffed Charizard sitting in my room. A nice run through the washing machine and he’ll be good as new. Don’t worry– he has other friends to keep him company!

Yeah. I like my pokemon.

Older sisters are terrifying

When I was younger, I was terrified of my older sister.

Why? Older siblings are abusive. They’re manipulative. They push their younger siblings around to get what they want.

My sister has a history of making me do menial tasks for her:

The idea of middle school, apparently, was enough to make me climb the stairs to retrieve her toothbrush. Secondary school, after all, is a frightening and mysterious thing.

Alternatively, she liked to cheat me out of things. Once it was chump change:

Although more classically it was Halloween candy.

There was one tactic she liked using the most. Like any little kid, I was attached to my stuffed animals. I was particularly fond of one plush dog I owned. And my sister, of course, abused this to the maximum:

In all fairness, my sister had to put up with her share of abuse as well. I would hit her. Throw things at her. Bother her incessantly. My poor ol’ sister had to put up with quite a lot. While she could take advantage of her seniority, I could take advantage of my youth:

It was classic sibling strife. Much of it declined as we got older, anyway. And my sister is the greatest. She’s put up with me for 18 years. She gives me advice. Lets me complain to her. Tells me how to not dress like a total scrub. I wouldn’t trade her for any other sister in the WORLD!…and so on. After all, who else can I rely on to dance the Irish jig with me?