All in the family
Close friend assumes brotherly role twenty years after the fact
ERIN REITZ is a senior the
ater performance major
and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist.
My big brother is the bomb.
He was bom in Georgia (his “I’m a
Georgia Peach” is always said with a
really awful Forrest Gump accent), he’s
6’2”, and he’s a Gemini, which makes
him naturally superior. He can laugh at
himself when he does something stu
pid and will laugh twice as hard when
you do.
He’s bailed me out of numerous
frightening situations that could have
easily put me in jail. Okay, maybe not
jail. Mote like Leavenworth.
Take, for instance, that little thing I
like to refer to as “the gas station inci
One beautiful summer afternoon, I
went to my local comer gas station to
fill up my beloved Skippy (referred to
by most people as “Erin’s car,” which is
not nearly as fun and creative, by the
way). I wrote a check, and amazingly, it
got rejected by the scanning company.
I say amazingly because, up until
just now, I had forgotten about all of
those checks I bounced last year.
Makes sense, I guess. Dammit.
So there I was, wigging out at the
register counter with no cash, nothing
in the bank until the next day (hence
the logic behind writing a check) and a
few maxed-out credit cards. I started
calling everyone I knew.
I must have called fifteen numbers
in about 2 minutes - absolutely no one
was home that afternoon. Then I
remembered that my brother wasn’t at
work. He was home and didn’t even
think twice about freeing my vehicle
from the evil clutches of Q for Quik.
11’m not sure what I would have done if
he had been at work that day.
I haven’t paid him back yet, but he
doesn’t make a deal about it He just
reminds me of it (and all of the other
money I owe him) in an awfully smart
ass way from time to time, of course.
He also helped save my butt this
past Halloween. In the name of holiday
decoration, big bro (and some other
very rad people) stunk up his shirt for a
couple of hours, helping me cover a
hallway with cut-up garbage bags and
spider webs. It was not fun work (is
that an oxymoron?), but we got it done
eventually. So maybe I sort of used him
for his height, but he knew that He’s a
very understanding guy.
The thing about my big brother is
this: it hasn’t just been me that he’s
gone out of his way to help out He put
his butt on the line to move a
co-worker out of her abusive
boyfriend’s apartment this fall.
He didn’t blink when she called
him up at 1 a.m. and told him
I she needed his help. He just did
it
He’s a Dumpster for my (■
floor’s guy problems, and they use
his services on a regular basis. I am .rl
referring, of course, to listening ser- vf
vices, people. Minds out of the gut- “
ter; for God’s sake!
Those who know him are ^ qp
blessed with his willingness _ ^ :
to absorb our troubles. He’s so
generous with the extra time he \
doesn’t really have. I suppose I
end up taking him for granted every
once in awhile, but he has a talent of
reminding me of that in his own sub
liminal, yet hilariously blatant way.
For all of the crap I throw at him,
it’s pretty cool that he still stands by me
when I need him. Sticking up for the
people that matter to him comes natu
rally, and he has no qualms about set
ting things straight He has a need to
see his friends and relatives happy and
respected. If they’re not, he’ll find
whoever’s responsible for it and make
the world right again. What a stud.
Okay, I do have one thing to con
fess. I must come clean. He’s not realty
my brother. The irony is that he’s actu
ally a day younger than me, and his
name is Aaron. I think we may have
been separated at birth. (Okay, so
maybe he’s blonde and 9 inches
taller than me, but those are
just silty details, don’t cha’
think?)
We’ve lived in die same
hall since last fall, and
we’re pretty tight. I don’t
remember when he started
referring to him
self as my big
brother, but I
thought it was
pretty fly when
he did.
I’m not sure if I am able to express
how infinitely rad it is to finally get the
- big bro I never had
as a kid. It’s not
that I don’t
appreciate
my two
mad-lovely
and talent
ed sisters,
mind you.
They are
far
superior to most hooligans walking on
this earth and I’d be lost without them.
But having a brother is different
He’s the manly man who wants to
meet all the guys I have dates with, and
he will tell me if he doesn’t approve.
(Side note: It’s kinda’ funny how I
say “all the guys,” like it’s this massive
cartel of males I get to randomly
choose from or something. One can
dream, though- Sigh-)
He’s offered (or sometimes threat
ened) to beat the crap out of those who
didn’t treat me the way he feels I
should be. “Reitz, want me to take care
of him for you?” is an expression that a
few bystanders have probably heard a
few times. God, you’ve gotta love it,
huh?
He’s around to give me “guy per
spective” on things and even admits
that he needs the “psychotic and natu
rally wicked female perspective” from
me from time to time. He knows that’s
my area. He’s a smarty.
Aaron s always saying corny male
crap that will never stop amusing me. If
I say something suggestive, he’ll say
“Ooh baby!” Peter Brady style
Hr' (you know what I mean). He
also is quite fond of screaming
j8r my name across die cafeteria,
p because our rule states that I’m
supposed to yell “Sex Toy!” back at
him.
We’re a couple of sickos and we
love it
The best way to sum up my rela
tionship with him is this way: If he
were a chick, he’d be in my wedding.
With Aaron I can be as serious or as
stupid as I need to be, and die same
goes for him. Because of him, I have
this sense of security that only a brother
can provide. I really wish that he’d been
around for those first 20 years I went
brotherless.
For you gals lacking a big brother, I -
strongly suggest you find one. They
really are a nice support to have around
in those tough (and not-so-tough)
times.
So here’s to you, Ritter. Keep on
fighting the good fight and, in return,
I’ll pay you back for that gas someday.
AmyMartin/DN ^
Gobble.com
__Interesting Web sites can dispel Thanksgiving blahs
TODD MUNSON is a senior
broadcasting major and a
Daily Nebraskan colum
nist.
Gobble, gobble my fellow turkeys.
Unless you’re like the hapless J-Dogg,
whose only invitation for
Thanksgiving came from a guy
named Arthur, y’all are probably
counting down the minutes to five
days of unadulterated freedom at
home with your relatives.
jusi two days from now, you might
find yourself at the kid’s table trying
to scrape Aunt Suzie’s armpit-flavored
gravy from your turkey or maybe
sandwiched between Uncle Stu and
Uncle Maynard, the one who smells
like urine, on the couch watching the
“Smokey and the Bandit” trilogy.
However, I’ve got the perfect anti
dote for the Thanksgiving blahs.
When the fam’s all gathered around
fighting for a slice of Aunt Bettie’s
goat-cheese pie, what better way is
there for social interaction than to
belly up to the ol’ computer and log
onto the Internet.
Until recently, I thought the
Internet was a barren computerized
wasteland for pedophiles and Star
Trek fans with way too much time on
their hands. However, in the last few
months, I realized surfing the Net is a
magnificent way to whittle away
hours that could be spent doing some
thing a little more worthwhile like
studying or actually doing something
productive here at the Daily
Nebraskan.
Curse this sodding newspaper.
Down at the DN, all the computers are
hooked up to a super-fast Internet
connection. That means no lines, no
waiting for a World Wide Web of a
whole lot of nothing just a click of a
button away. And that means a col
umn which, in theory, takes only an
hour or so to write, is usually done in
three. Curse this sodding newspaper.
A_L__! 1 __•__a
ruijrimu, wiiiit au vui^ uui Illy
sentence down here, I’ve stumbled
onto enough cool Web sites that it
would take a person about an entire
day to fully look at all of them. And
by entire day, I’m referring to
Thanksgiving Day. Woo hoo, no rub
bing Great Aunt Lurlene’s bunion
encrusted, eight-toed feet
I’d also like to note, a few exam
ples of elephantiasis and graphic jive
aside, I’d rate all the sites listed PG-13
at their worst. For some strange rea
son, perhaps that I consider myself a
normal and productive member of
society, I have yet to look at the
Internet pom all the lawmakers are
fussing about.
What better way to start than with
the site dedicated to the greatest liquid
a
in existence, the fine mysterious
sludge that constitutes a lovely pint of
Guinness. At http.V/www.guinness.
com, you can learn all the secrets of
this 200-year-old recipe, take a virtual
tour of the St. James Gate Brewery or
try to brew your very own batch of the
stoutest of the stouts. Just looking at
the site makes me fantasize about a
pint or two.
Hmmm ... it’s only 9 p.m. Maybe
I will.
45 minutes later... Curse that
sodding Guinness.
Now that I’m good and buzzed,
I’m in the mood to send out some silly
e-mails. Since bigred is the e-mail
equivalent of Pong, I’ll use my
Hotmail account courtesy of my good
friend Bill Gates. If you don’t have
one, I highly recommend getting one.
It’s even free, and unlike bigred, you
can log onto a Hotmail account from
any computer with Internet access.
Thanks to Hotmail, I stay in touch
with friends who are too lazy to send
letters but will gladly e-mail pictures
of a wild dominatrix at a Halloween
party in San Francisco’s Castro
District. Thanks Dave! Check out his
photography at http://cdm.sfai.edu/
users/dsnorris. Log onto http://www.
hotmail.com, fill out a couple of
things, and in minutes, you’ll be like
all the cool kids. Even my mom has
Hotmail.
A great site to find some humor
ous images to send out through your
new Hotmail account exists at http://
members.tripod.com/~krazy_keith/
Ballz.html. On this page, you’ll find
more than 320 hyperlinks to almost
every “Ate My Balls” page in exis
tence. Just what is an “Ate My Balls
Page”? Well, it’s just about as it
sounds. For example at the “Mr. T Ate
My Balls” page, you’ll see a collec
tion of photos of Mr. T with some
humorous captions about how much
he likes balls. “I pity the fool who
don’t like balls” is just one of his
many catch phrases. Krazy Keith even
went through the trouble to alphabet
ize all the sites, so you easily find out
which celebrities have a knack for
balls.
Speaking of balls, some really
peculiar photos of elephantiasis, along
with some other graphic photos, can
be found at http://www. rotten, com. I
hope the address serves as fair warn
ing. Along with basketball-sized
___911 X*!_1 _ 1__X*_IliJ_1
^uiiauo, yvju. 11 imu a uuj ui puimvat
figures caught in rather awkward
moments. Betcha didn’t know Queen
Elizabeth picks her nose. As the name
suggests, there is a collection of rather
rotten photos. You don’t have to see
them if you don’t want to. But if you
really want to see the Abominable
Infants section, wait until after dinner.
If you want to put the day to good
use and learn a foreign language,
check out http://www.jiveon.com. I
must warn that there is a lot of explicit
language but that’s an integral part of
Jivin’. If you want to learn the raps
wit’ out havin’ to Fake the Junk, read
the “Jive Bible” from Albert to Zeus.
If you still have questions ask the
“Jive Guy” or submit something to the
“Jive Translator.” If you really want to
have some fun, teach some of the
more explicit terms to your younger
cousins and sit back and watch the
mayhem. Soon you’ll be a Half
Strainer, spoutin’jive just like the J
Dogg wit’ out havin’ to grow up on
the streets of Fargo. If you miss the J
Dogg over the holiday, check out his
page at http://incolor.inetnebr.com/
wimmer/.
As for other DN employees on the
Web, if you like to honk to tonk check
out http://www.cactushillne.com.
Here you’ll find David Wilson,
sportswriter extraordinaire, in action
as the fiddle player in Cactus Hill, the
boot scootinest country band in the
lonH
The final site I want to recom
mend is the one that will take the
longest to download. Ironically
enough, it came from the editor in
chief herself. Kinda makes you won
der what she does in her little office.
At http./Avww.perp.com/whale, you
can witness one urban legend
debunked once and for all as the
entire television news report of the
Oregon State Highway Division blow
ing up a beached whale with a quarter
ton of dynamite. Silly beyond belief.
As Dave Barry said in his report of
the incident, I am not making this up.
And I’m sure most of you won’t
bother to take this home over the holi
day so to make things easier, go to
http://www. uni edxJDailyNeb, where
Webmaster Gregg has hyperlinked
each and every address for your view
ing pleasure.
Happy Thanksgiving, turkeys.