The Mini Me

I have one older brother.

Naturally, being the little one in the family, I just idolized him.

Dana could do no wrong ( yeah, my mom also has a thing for unisex names... she's weird).

Anything he did, I wanted to do.

He wanted to be a ninja turtle, Sydney wanted to be a ninja turtle.

Dana ate a hot dog, Sydney definitely wanted a hot dog too. If he had decided

that he was going to get a mullet, walk around on one foot while singing stupid songs and
 clanging pots together, welp, you better bet your ass I was gonna be

right there with him. As we got older, this

phase of wanting to be like him didn't wane. He wanted
"mens" to play with (aka G.I. Joe's), then I totally wanted them too!

I mean, if Dana was doing it, Dana... the man, the myth, the legend
(at least thats how my little brain saw him) then I was hooked on it too.

Yet, as we got older, he got too "cool" to have his six year old

sister lagging behind him all the time. With my super sweet tie dye

jumpsuits (everyone was super jealous), imprinted with a disney princess on the top (Ariel, all day),
paired with my big blue eyes in an even bigger head
and little blonde ringlets falling everywhere.

You can see why he would be embarrassed... totally not cool for his "street cred"
or whatever it is that 9 year olds have.

Naturally, He began excluding me *insert sad sigh here*.

So when that infamous night, where he asked if I wanted to play finally rolled around,

I said HELL YES! Well, not really, but that's the phrase equivalent of how excited I was.

Little did I know what was in store for me... These were the days when

he was big into the WWF (World Wide Wrestling Federation for you ninnies who don't know). 

"Alright Sydney, Just stand at the edge of the couch and don't move!"
*Vigorously Nods Head* Proceeds to assume the aforementioned position.

I totally had no idea what was going on.

I mean, I didn't really care... my big brother wanted me to hang out with him!
This was the best day of my little life.

All of the sudden, I see a blur of movement from across

the room. Time started to go very slowly as I watched him move
toward me, it was like a panther going in for the attack.
Sheer determination and grit.

And, that's when I felt it... his forearm connected right with my throat.

"And she's down with a CLOSE LINE to the throat by the Mighty Dana Warrior"

Sidebar:
Ultimate Warrior was his dude back in the day!
Now, I don't know about all that. Stone Cold was kind of in his prime
back in these days and I must say the stunner was just too
effective. But, I will let his lack of good judgement slide.

I heard ringing in my head as my tiny body is being hurtled through the air into
the back couch cushions.

That's when the tears started.  Pouring down my face like the breaking of a dam.
As he stands over me, the triumphant winner he looks down, pointing,
and says it's time for the champ to "finish him"!

Giving a diving aerial jump off the ropes with a little peoples elbow for flare. 

BOOM!
 (If you aren't a big WWE person, it's basically, he body slams his body
onto me with his elbow to my gut.)

That's when shit got real....

Out came Sydney Hulk! *Cue Mortal Kombat theme song*

Little, ol blue angel eyes, stands up and opens a great big can of whoop ass

on Mighty Dana Warrior. Circa, my fav, the one and only, Mr. Stone Cold Steve Austin!

Kidding.... I actually just stood up and let him close line me again

and then he taught me how to do it myself.

That is the story of how I became a Wrestling Aficionado.

And, that is my totally pointless family bonding story!



Oh Melodies

Most of my stories revolve around work and commuting.

I guess because I am now one of "those people". Ya know, the drone-y

ones who spend their lives sleeping and working because they are too tired

and/or lazy (mostly the second one in my case) to do anything else.

If you actually take the time to stop and look

 at what is going on around you, you realize that,

everyone is absolutely absorbed in their phones, Ipads, or kindles.

When you actually do stumble upon the person who isn't absorbed in some electronic

device they are either one of three things:
A) Really weird and probably a serial killer or kidnapper in the making,
(Cause naturally that's totally the first thing people would assume, am I right?!)

B) Seriously old and have no idea what those "thingers" are, or
C) a child (The still not having teeth, drool all the time kind, naturally.)

I mean, how anyone can actually get through a commute without

using some kind of music is something I truly can NOT comprehend.

My brain can't wrap itself around the concept.

So, basically, all that was some unnecessary hoopla that leads us to my actual story.

I can't go anywhere without my music, it just gets that extra pep in my step.

I always find myself walking in time to the beat, sometimes

when I am feeling super cool and daring I will challenge myself to walk

out of step with the beat. Naturally, I always fail...miserably.

So one particular day, as I was droning my way down the street like the rest of these

workaholic New York electronic addicted zombies, I found myself utterly exhausted from a long day

of doing absolutely nothing. Eventually, I made it through the throngs of obnoxious

peppy people in Grand Central to my train.

Almost immediately when I take my seat my eyes close and I just start to lose

myself in my music. Tapping my foot, doing a tiny hip shake... nothing that will draw

too much attention to myself. I pretend that's true at least.

Anyway, I got so lost in my own head and mouthing the

words to the songs that I just completely forget where I am.

That was until I open my eyes and realize that I was just singing & dancing to Justin Bieber....

OUT LOUD.

That whole entire time, I was "mouthing" the words... I was actually singing.

I was absolutely mortified. I couldn't look at anyone after that.

Naturally, I started sitting in a different train car from that day forward.

So I don't have to see the "regulars" who had to bare witness

to such an unforgivable mishap.