The Differences Between My Brother And I (and why it doesn’t make us good roommates)

As I mentioned in the previous blog post, my 34-year-old half-brother is now living in my parent’s house. Actually, he’s living in MY room. One of us will have to sleep on the couch, and I have a feeling it will be me.

Anyway, even though we are related, we are so completely different that if my room was big enough and an extra bed could fit, I still wouldn’t room with him.

Let’s start with appearances: He’s about 6 foot, and I am 5’2. He’s tan, I’m pale. He looks like he belongs on The Jersey Shore, and I look like I belong on The Biggest Loser (I like to joke about my weight. It hides my pain. I’m really crying on the inside…I’m really eating on the inside).

Personality: He’s all macho macho, and I’m 100% feminist. Nothing is ever his fault and I own up to my mistakes.

Character traits: He’s so fucking neat it’s unnatural. I’m so messy it should be illegal. He’s so concerned about his appearance, and while I am to, I don’t freak out over it like he does. He’s such a loudmouth and has no filter, and while I may talk a lot I try to tailor what comes out of my mouth depending on who I am talking to.

Accomplishes: He didn’t go to college, he’s divorced, has no credit, and is living with his father and step-mom. I am currently attending college, trying to find a good job, and am trying to live on my own.

We clash so much that sometimes I wonder how my father could create such drastically different children.

Now I have to fight with him over the room I’ve been living in for the past 20 years.

Life is unfair, bitch scouts. So unfair!

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