Posts Tagged ‘little brothers’

A response posted on Wednesday Afternoon at the Bean (three guesses on the mysterious author… and don’t let the ‘brains’ reference throw you):

“You’re possibly the worst person ever! DEAL WITH IT! Caleb sounds like a wonderful person and has a lot to offer the arts here in Saint John. The fact that he throws a spear is a bonus! He likes to have a very balanced life. I heard a rumor that all the paintings at bean books were all painted by her brother. However Caleb would never voluntarily give his paintings to Sarah. I heard that she has him locked in the basement and forced to paint or he will receive no food or water. Once Sarah found out that people would buy Caleb’s paintings she took away all of his food and then provided him with sharpened spoons in order to hunt down mice for nutrition, he also has to collect water from the fog and rain that trickles into the basement (dungeon). He remains alive because of an episode of Man VS Wild that he viewed a week earlier before his confinement. However I believe he is digging his way to freedom, trying to reach the River! Also he can’t use the spoons that he hunts with because Sarah has only provided him with 3 and they are getting dull. In that episode of Man Vs Wild he witnessed how Bear (possibly the coolest guy ever….after Caleb) would attach the teeth of the mice to his own fingers. This is his method of escaping the wrath of Sarah Jones. I believe he is only a few meters from the reversing falls. I imagine Caleb will want revenge…possibly has something to do with Spoons to the heart! Sarah better watch out!




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Wednesday, August 5. 2:13 pm: My brother parades through the door, launches his gym bag behind the counter (go ahead, make yourself at home), and proceeds to work on his handstands in the middle of the store. ‘Knock it off,’ I say, ‘a customer might come in.’

2:15 pm: Customer walks in. I groan. Takes one look at the 6ft2 upside down teenager balancing precariously in front of her, and hastily backs out through the door.

2:21 pm: I realize I’m out of red paint. ‘Caleb,’ I say, ‘watch the store for me. I have go do a couple errands.’  He groans. ‘Fine, so long as you bring me something.’

2:23 pm: Text from Caleb. ‘i’m bored,’ it reads. I roll my eyes.

2:25 pm: Text from Caleb. ‘where the heck are you. hurry up.’  I left four minutes ago. Brilliant.  My brother obviously has problems with the concept of time and space.

2:26 pm: I am purchasing some art supplies at Eastward Sales on Union, and remember my brother’s request to bring him something, so I look around for the cheapest thing in the store. I settle on a $.60 carpenter’s pencil.

Caleb's drawing2:35 pm: I arrive back at the store. Caleb immediately peels.

2:37 pm: I discover his work of art on the computer’s paint program, which he has unhelpfully set as the desktop. Sheer genius, right there. I make a mental note to forgo any further $.60 gifts in the future.

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Urban DeliUrban Deli just opened at 68 King Street. And it’s brilliant. My sage advice: go, and go often, because it’s so good.

I promised to treat my brother to dinner there sometime next week. Why, you ask? Why would I take my coffee-mooching, javelin-toting little brother out to dinner, and actually pay for his food? Especially given that he’s capable of consuming vast quantities?


I was a little peeved at my brother on the weekend and I threw the tv remote at his head. And I have deadly aim when I’m harpy-esque mad.

So I’m taking him to Urban Deli. And their delightful food will erase all memory of the lump on his head.

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My brother in the TJFact: The Telegraph Journal loves my brother. Obsessively. Every second day there is an article with an eight-inch colour photo – and javelin javelin javelin. Come on, don’t they know I’m way more photogenic?

So, like a good sister, I posted the newspaper clippings on the wall behind the counter at the store. Until, one day last week, my brother squawks:

‘How come your articles are all laminated and framed and nice? Mine are just pasted on the wall! They’re fading! You should have them framed.’

(Did I mention he was the baby of the family?)

My highly mature response:

‘Bite me.’

TreeAnd in another highly mature move, specifically designed to irritate my beloved sibling, I moved his articles behind the tree. See photo. Yup. Take that.

But the problem is that now I have to drag the tree away whenever I want to brag about him (or threaten someone – ‘yeah don’t mess with me or I call him, that guy with the spear’).


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My brother drinks all my coffee.

Bean Books is perpetually running low in java due to my sibling’s unquenchable love of the stuff. A potential paying customer will come in only to find an empty canister of authentic and a measly quarter cup of the foghorn. “I thought you were all about the coffee here! Your sign says coffee!” they protest, as I scramble to make another pot, muttering something about my brother’s insatiable caffeine addiction.

If anyone else consumed as much coffee as him, I would be mildly concerned. What’s worse for me is that his six foot two – high metabolism – galathelete – self can handle multiple litres of coffee without any problem. And worse still is that he has mastered the art of sibling-stealth – I could swear that the coffee cup in his hand has been re-filled a half dozen times, I can just never catch him in the act.

And the irony here is that I have to accept a good portion of the responsibility for his coffee consumption. Five years ago I put my little brother in charge of the coffee table at a coffeehouse I was organizing. Note: the then-thirteen-year-old had never had a cup of coffee until this point. About two hours into the show, a friend tapped me on the shoulder, advising me to check on the condition of my brother.

“How many cups of coffee have you had?!” I ask, when I find him bouncing off the walls of the Arts Centre.


Java Moose has had a regular customer ever since. And I now have a indefatigable coffee poacher who is making Bean Books his new place of residence.

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