The Wall Street Journal Called. Really.

I was going to keep this rather hush-hush, but my sister spilled the beans on Facebook yesterday, so I figure I'd let you guys in.

A reporter from the Wall Street Journal online site contacted me this week.

"Shut the f*ck up," you say?

Yup.  The Wall Street Flippin' Journal.  You read it here first (unless you read my sister's Facebook, then second).

This reporter (whose name I will reveal in due time in case I imagined this whole thing or my meds are off) is writing an online story about sibling rivalry.  She must have come across my blog with the infamous beehive picture:

I agreed to a phone interview during the exact time I was picking the boys up from school.  I sent them to the playground while the interview took place.  Here's a brief recap:

Savvy Reporter:  So tell me about growing up.

Me (as Joey tells me he has to pee): Growing up? What Joey?  Yes my sister would borrow and ruin ALL my clothes.  She even broke my Holly Hobbie Oven.  NOT NOW, Joey.

Savvy Reporter:  Pardon me?

Me:  Oh, not you.  I'm yelling at my son.

Savvy Reporter:  Okay...now did you and your sister ever compete in any areas?

Me:  NO!  PUT THAT DOWN!

Savvy Reporter:  Sorry?

Me:  Not you.  Compete?  Oh my God, my sister has boobs to die for...wait...can I say boobs?  Is that not suitable for the Wall Street Journal?  STOP IT.

Savvy Reporter:  Stop what?

Me:  Sorry, I was yelling at Dan.  What were we talking about?  Oh, right.  My sister has a great rack.  I totally got robbed in that department. 

Savvy Reporter:  Hang on, let me finish writing this down.

Me:  Writing what down?

Savvy Reporter:  About your sister's....er.....

Me:  Boobs.  Right.  Want me to tell you how she used to fill my hairspray bottles with water?  STOP FIGHTING!

Oh my God.  Megan is so going to kill me.  And my brand of  crazy is going NATIONAL!

To be continued.....