K: Last night kinda sucked.
C: Yeah?
K: Yeah. I drooled this disgusting circle right in the middle of the pillow.
C: Uh, did you flip it over?
K: Man! Why didn't I think of that?! Well first I tried sleeping to the right of the drool and then to the left but it was right in the middle so neither worked. Finally I gave up and just slept on the floor. I spent a long long time thinking about how bad my life is before I fell asleep.

Kevin: *walks into my room holding bizarre-looking stick
Me: What the hell is that?
Kevin: A double headed arrow.
Me: Why the hell do you need an arrow with two tips?
Kevin: It's pretty simple, really. The first one pierces the skin and then the second one enters the puncture wounds and drills into the flesh.
Me: Uh, hold up just one second. Whose flesh are you planning on drilling into?
Kevin: Wellll, let's just say it's a really really good thing that you're always nice to me and you're never mean...right?

I just got owned, so hard.

I ran out of toilet paper last night, so I made a mental note to go grab some from the stack in mom's room. About 9:30 pm, Kevin comes in with a roll. "Hey Carrie, I noticed you were out so I got you some." I hear him in my bathroom taking the old tube out and sticking the new roll in. Man, do I have a champ for a brother or what?!

I'm not sure what happened next.

I went to bed later and woke up today at 8:30, groggy and needing to pee. Somewhere in the depths of my brain, a little voice went "Hold up! We need to restock the tp!" And then the rest of my brain went "Nah, it's cool, the little bro held down the fort for us." So I use the restroom, and you guys, toilet paper is not optional for the fairer sex. It's not like, "oooh, my package of rosewater scented handwoven Peruvian toilet paper was just delivered! I'll have to try it out sometime!" It is a necessity, not a luxury.

So I turn to grab the toilet paper that Kevin had so helpfully brought last night...wait a minute... That fink stole it!!! What the hell?! The whole delivery thing last night was just a ply to lure my subconscious into submission?! What kind of evil, twisted, ELEVEN year old genius would plot that sort of thing, let alone carry it out?!

Talk about owned.

"Kevin, apply sunscreen."

"Why?"

"Whadaya mean, why? Are you stupid? So you don't get sunburnt and die of skin cancer."

"I know, but I won't get skin cancer. Only 10% of people get it."

(I have no idea where he got that stat or whether it's true.)

"Kevin, that's ridiculous! Only 10% of people are lefthanded, but look at me! Just because something's less than 50% doesn't mean it can't happen!"

"...Really?!"

"Yes, really! Now apply the damn sunscreen!"

"Sheesh, Carrie! You have more pairs of jeans than I have body parts!"

"I just made up a song!

How many days are in a year?
How many years are in a day?
How many people are in America?
How many Americas are in a people?
How many teeth are in a Kevin?
How many Kevins are in a teeth?"