Guest Blogger: Mike Patterson

Peeps, my big bro nagged me until I let him post his "advice", since he was a no-show for my big event. We'll get back to regular Apes programming as soon as poss, I promise. . . .
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Advice From Your Big Brother
by
Michael Patterson
Editor of Portait Magazine
Freelance writer
Editor at Large
Allaround bigshot

Dear April,

Thank you for letting me post my world-weary, winsome (lose-some) wisdom to your wonderful, witty weblog. As I write this, in the backyard, a gentle breeze hits my face, and I remember my own grade 8 grad fifteen years ago. What a youthful scamp I was, donning my suit, letting Dad help me with my tie, facing the new challenges that lay ahead. Hey, look, it's the Kelpfroths' laundry. I never imagined Winnie to be the thong type, that is way too much information, but it's okay because at least they're saving energy by hanging their laundry out to dry. But they're evil people who smoke cigars and hate children, so even when they do the right thing, I'm compelled to make nasty remarks about them.

"Nasty remarks" makes me think of peer pressure, and that's what I want to address next, and by that I don't mean my postal address, I mean that's what I'm about to talk about next. The teenage years are infested with peer pressure like the flat I shared with Weed in college was infested with cockroaches, but that's because we were slobs, though at least we had our Ned doll, and we knew how to let loose and have fun. But you should never let loose and have fun, because you're a girl, and girls have different rules, because girls can get pregnant. So no matter how much your friends pressure you, never let a boy touch you below the waist. Actually, you shouldn't let them touch you much above the waist, either, I figure there's maybe about three inches of space in the waist region where you might--might--let a boy touch you, but only very very briefly, and then that's it young lady! And don't even think about having S-E-X before you get married, and then only to have children, exactly two, a girl and a boy.

The breeze that gently caresses my face reminds me of other times breezes have gently touched my face, as I lay in our parents' backyard, listening to Elton John on my boombox, relaxing until I heard Mom yell, "TURN OFF THAT BLASTED JUNGLE MUSIC, MICHAEL PATTERSON, OR I SWEAR I WILL TAKE YOU TO ALASKA AND THROW YOU IN A SNOW DRIFT!" I still get choked up thinking about that now. Mom loves us so much! Remember always to listen to her sage advice, as she really does know best. Right, Mom? Please don't hurt me!

In conclusion, breezes are good, peer pressure, sex, and Kelpfroths are bad, and Mom knows everything. Wow, I can't believe my Little Sis is going to be in high school. High school. High. . . . . Oh, man, do I have the munchies!

Love,

Michael
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Wow, peeps, can you believe that shizzit? Sorry about that, but you wouldn't believe the naggin'!

Apes