Ah, the halcyon days Julia Allison spent with Jack “Pancakes” McCain, where they once briefly discussed marriage before she came to visit “the home they shared in Coronado” and wouldn’t leave, forcing Mama Cindy to escort her to the San Diego airport. “You take care, dear heart!”
Maybe Julia’s having second thoughts about her dusty circle of friends post Pancakes: scammy slut Ali Shanti, tattoo-faced lunatic Saharima Roenisch, dominatrix without mercy Michael Ellsberg, pocket Stanford dropout Max Marmer and on and on and on:
It occurs to me that perhaps I was meant to have been born in the South – Georgia or North Carolina or Texas – a place with manners and family dinners and big hair, a place where courtship and church never went out of style, a nice Southern girl – but something got mixed up with the Stork’s GPS … and I was sent to Chicago instead.
You’re a long way from elegance, refined manners, a boyfriend whose father was one erratic heartbeat away from from the presidency, and a Southern or British accent, Jackles! Exhibit A: Airport personnel and travelers holding their noses when Ali Shanti, her hair in turkey feathers and bewbs hanging out, wafts past. Channel away, Rainbow!
UPDATE: Julia decided to jump on her “little brother” and publicly bray about their relationship “in honor” of his 31st birthday:
Throwback Thursday in honor of my brother’s 31st birthday. This shot was taken in 2001 or 2002, I believe, when I was 20 or 21 and Britt was graduating from high school, in our parents’ backyard.
It’s always been hard for me to have the kind of relationship with Britt I wanted … we’re very different people, with very different lives. I’m super verbally communicative, he’s … well, he’s not. He‘s married (to a lovely girl he met in HIGH SCHOOL) with a baby. I’m … well, I’m not. I travel constantly, he barely gets on a plane (for work and family reasons – not because he’s lame – he’s super adventurous, studied abroad in Hong Kong, he traveled before he settled down).
He is a senior engineer at Motorola, I do wild happiness experiments for a living. He’s in Chicago, and likely will be for life … and me? I don’t foresee ever going back there for anything other than the occasional visit and a few weeks in the summer. I go to Burning Man, he thinks that’s sort of “ridiculous.” I have lived in seven different cities in my life … he’s lived in two, three if you include college.
Sometimes it just seems like the space is too vast between us. Perhaps we’ll never be the close, loving bff siblings I always wanted. But I refuse to accept that means we can’t connect as human beings who have loving hearts.
So how do we forge a relationship in spite of this crevasse of difference? How do we go beyond small talk? How do we keep the love going?
These are the questions many of us will be asking ourselves as the holidays approach and we’re sitting at Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners next to relatives with whom, frankly, we don’t have much “in common.”
How can we connect on a heart level with our families?
The jackass is using her brother’s birthday and a gazillion snaps of the poor bastard when a kid (which I refuse to post here) to start a Shantiesque FB conversation, but no one gives enough of a shit to respond. THIS IS SOCIAL MEDIA 3.0 SUCCESS!