My Brothers, The Cool People

I was thinking recently: I wish I was more like my brother. Either one, really.

The older younger one is a Marine. He has rippling muscles and loves animals. He rides a freaking motorcycle. If he had a cologne line (he wouldn't actually, he's too cool, but pretend for a minute that he did) it'd be called "Essence of Cool."

The younger younger one has huge brains. Like, for real. He's a literal genius. And he plays saxophone. And he plays base guitar. In a rock band. (Cool enough for you yet, ladies?) Plus, he has this deadly sense of humor. And his initials (AOK) spell ay-oh-kay.

So now the question becomes: how did these two super-cool, blond, blue-eyed people wind up in a family of dark haired squares?

Hmmm.

I am jealous of all you people out there who are friends with my brothers and get to hang out with them all the time. I know that you do so in the hope that some small sliver of their Ultimate Coolness will one day rub off on you.

I wish this for myself, but my hope is in vain: as a dork and evil sister, I am Generally Not Associated With.