Stupid boys

I, being the wonderful little sister that I am, called my brother to wish him happy birthday. Very sweet, yes? Especially considering the fact that he hasn't remembered my birthday since we were living under the same roof. So we chit chat a bit. Blah blah blah school. Blah blah blah compy. Blah blah blah iPod. Blah blah blah give me back my Kill Bill Vol. 1 cd. Blah blah blah our family is evil and maladjusted and all should go rot in hell. Brother dear is so pleasant. So as I'm saying goodbye, because I really needed to finish up my paper, he starts in on politics. Damn him. I called him the black sheep of the family, jokingly of course, and he says, well, good. So we argue for the next ten minutes and he accuses me of parroting Dad, The NY Times, etc. I hate him.