Now, you have to understand that my sister is outrageous, witty and has been known to be slightly inappropriate at times.
My mom is all around wonderful and does an excellent job of tolerating our antics.
Here's a little peak into my life. It's amazing I've survived this long.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: Day 1 of half marathon training - check!
Mom: Good for you, sweetie!
Me: My legs hurt now.
Marissa: Be honest. You are really training for The Hunger Games.
Me: I've got to be ready just in case.
Marissa: I'm working on my archery skills.
Me: I'm gonna work on that this summer at camp.
Mom: You two are scaring me!
Marissa: Don't worry mom, we would both be dead within minutes. We would be Hunger Games failures. Epic failures.
Me: Speak for yourself.
Mom: That is supposed to comfort me?!
Me: I have a shot at surviving. No promises though...I'm not very good at picking safe berries.
Marissa: Yeah, you'd be screwed. You'd get bitten by an ant (note: I'm allergic), go into anaphylactic shock and be done by dark. I'd be underestimated and use my brain and geniusness to outwit everyone. Plus, you are a weenie, you get that from mom, and could never hunt animals and people.
Mom: Hello! I'm still here.
Marissa: Oh sorry. You'd be screwed in The Hunger Games too mom.
Mom: I think I'll take that as a compliment.
Marissa: So would Dad. I saw how far he jumped when he saw that snake.
Me: Don't underestimate Dad! He's a smart cookie.
Marissa: Let's face it, he doesn't watch enough Bear Grylls, he'd be screwed too.
Me: He can totally outrun a fire or a tidal wave.
Marissa: Let's just all be happy that we don't live in District 12. Or post-apocalyptic USA.
My poor parents. I don't know how they've put up with the two of us for all these years. Although I'm sure the martinis have something to do with it.